H 


ALIENS 


BY 

WILLIAM  MTEE 

AUTHOR    OF    "AN    OCEAN    TRAMP 


NEW    YORK 

LONGMANS,  GREEN   &   CO. 

LONDON  :  EDWARD   ARNOLD 

[All  rights  reserved] 


A2Z-5  A  66 

MaiM 


TO 
MARGERY  ALLINGHAM. 


*■ 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

PROLOGUE       1 

I.   THE    ''  SCALDINO  " 19 

II.    HIS   CHILDREN 33 

III.  A   LETTER   FROM   WIGBOROUGH          -           -  46 

IV.  MISS   FRAENKEL 60 

V.    HE   COMES 76 

VI.    HE   BEGINS   HIS   TALE       -           -           -           -  91 

VII.    DIAPORESIS  - 126 

VIII.    HE   CONTINUES   HIS   TALE          -           -           -  137 

IX.    WE   AWAIT   DEVELOPMENTS      -           -           -  167 

X.    ANOTHER   LETTER   FROM    WIGBOROUGH     -  227 

XI.   MR.  CARVILLE  SEES  THREE  GREEN  LIGHTS  245 

XII.    THE   VISION  FROM  THE   KILLS            -           -  278 

XIII.  MISCELLANY 304 

XIV.  CONCLUSION 319 


I 


ALIENS 


PROLOGUE 

Ten  minutes  after  the  birth  of  the  New  Year,  when 
the  shouting  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  had  scarcely  died 
away  in  the  parlour  of  Shovitzsky's  Hotel  in  Chest- 
nut Street,  a  party  of  three,  two  men  and  one 
woman,  might  have  been  seen  slowly  ascending 
Pine  Street,  which  leads  to  Van  Diemen's  Avenue, 
the  highest  point  in  the  town  of  Netley,  in  the 
State  of  New  Jersey.  They  moved  slowly  because 
the  snow,  which  had  descended  steadily  for  thirty 
hours,  had  been  long  ago  abandoned  by  even  the 
most  persistent  shovellers,  and  lay  a  foot  deep  on 
the  sidewalks.  Arrived  at  the  top  and  moving 
southward  along  the  ridge  of  what  is  really  a  foot- 
hill of  the  Orange  mountains,  they  paused  in  front 
of  a  vacant  plot  of  land,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  each 
way,  that  formed  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  occupied 
the  space  between  Broad  Street  at  the  bottom 
and  Van  Diemen's  Avenue  at  the  top.  Above 
their  heads  was  the  dark  blue  vault  of  the  sky, 
obscured  here  and  there  by  indeterminate  blotches 
of  moving  cloud,  and  far  away  to  the  eastward 

A 


2  ALIENS 

lay  a  long,  low  glare   pierced   by  a  single  white 
light,   the  lantern  of  the  Metropohtan  Tower  in  , 
New  York. 

They  paused  and  stood  close  together,  but  with- 
out speaking,  their  figures  etched  in  jet  against 
the  ghostly  purity  of  the  snow.  It  became  im- 
mediately apparent  that  they  were  not  watching, 
so  much  as  listening,  for  on  the  freshening  easterly 
wind  there  was  borne  such  a  noise  as  men  are  not 
often  either  permitted  to  make  or  to  hear.  It 
could  not  be  called  a  noise,  it  was  rather  a  terrible 
and  confusing  presence  translated  into  sound.  So 
enormous  was  it,  and  so  distant,  that  it  seemed  to 
be  omnipresent.  It  was  as  though  one  were 
listening  to  the  cheering  of  numberless  myriads 
on  another  planet.  There  was  neither  cessation 
to  it  nor  paroxysm,  neither  surging  up  nor  dying 
away.  It  was  simply  a  continuous  and  pro- 
digious drone.  And  the  wonder  might  possibly 
be  driven  up  a  notch  higher  when  it  was  known 
that  this  blood -chilling  and  mysterious  uproar  was 
caused,  not  by  the  moans  of  a  lost  world  faUing 
down  through  inconceivable  spaces  to  Gehenna, 
but  by  a  milHon  tin  horns  which  the  two  million 
people  of  New  York  City  considered  to  be  a  suit- 
able welcome  for  the  New  Year.  It  was  a  fanfare 
in  excdsis,  defying  criticism  and  distance.  It  was 
the  apotheosis  of  Manhattan  ;  it  was  a  skyscraper 
of  sound.  It  was  the  expression  of  a  primal  and  I, 
singularly  innocent  joy,  the  joy  of  a  young  nation 
on   beholding   a    New    Year.     It    was   almost    as^ 


I 


ALIENS  3 

though,  in  the  cataclysm  of  unlooked-for  casualties, 
in  the  vanishing  of  cities,  in  the  eruption  of  moun- 
tains and  the  sinking  of  titanic  ships  beneath  the 
waves,  even  the  recurrence  of  the  seasons  had 
become  problematic  and  a  matter  of  supreme 
wonder. 

A  million  tin  horns  ! 

It  was  doubtless  their  preoccupation  with  the 
solemnity  of  the  hour  and  the  extraordinary 
nature  of  the  sound  filling  their  ears  that  pre- 
vented the  three  persons  in  Van  Diemen's  Avenue 
from  noting  the  first  appearance  in  the  sky  of  a 
strange  and  disquieting  signal.  For  some  moments, 
before  they  became  conscious  of  the  fact,  there 
shone,  far  away  to  the  south-east,  beyond  Newark, 
a  tiny  constellation  of  three  green  lights,  arranged 
in  a  triangle  with  the  apex  towards  the  zenith. 
It  was  only  when  this  peculiar  phenomenon, 
which  was  advancing  irregularly  towards  them, 
was  emphasized  against  a  dark  bank  of  cloud, 
that  the  taller  of  the  two  men  raised  his  hand 
and  spoke  to  his  companions.  Immediately  the 
sound  of  New  York's  million  tin  horns  was  forgotten, 
and  they  raised  their  faces  to  the  sky  in  rapt  con- 
templation of  this  yet  more  amazing  portent. 
And  as  they  gazed  the  triangle  of  green  lights 
was  borne  beyond  the  cloud-bank  and  was  seen 
against  the  dark  blue  of  the  star -lit  heavens, 
moving  more  and  more  rapidly.  The  three  people 
plunged  into  the  snow  and  crossed  to  the  edge  of 
the  vacant  plot,  which  was  higher  than  the  road- 


4  ALIENS 

way.  Suddenly  the  woman  gave  a  cry,  for  the 
object  of  their  attention  was  now  near,  and  plunging 
frantically  in  the  air.  One  swerve  was  so  abrupt 
that  the  lights  vanished  from  view,  and  it  was 
this  that  caused  the  woman  to  cry,  "  Oh  !  oh  !  " 
When  they  reappeared  they  were  perhaps  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  snow.  And  then,  with  the  rapidity  of 
a  bird  of  prey,  the  dark  mass  to  which  the  lights 
were  attached  described  a  flat  parabola  towards 
the  earth,  spinning  the  while  upon  itself  w4th 
incredible  speed,  and  struck  the  snow  with  a  soft 
thud. 

Before  the  three  watchers  had  covered  even  a 
quarter  of  the  short  distance  that  separated  them 
from  the  fallen  airship,  it  had  burst  into  flame, 
and  the  whole  expanse   of  snow  was  brilliantly 
illuminated.     So  sudden  was  the  catastrophe,  and 
so  mingled  with  the  deep  snow  was  the  unfamiUar 
wreckage,  that  they  merely  blundered  on  a  few 
steps   further   and   stood   in   stupefaction.     Their  ' 
movements,   before  the  appearance  of  the  green 
lights,  had  aroused  the  suspicion  of  a  patrolman 
ascending  the  further  side  of  the  ridge  by  Friedman  i 
Street  and  who  now  stood  watching  them  from 
the  shadow  of  a  house  at  the  corner.     Without 
comprehending  the  cause  of  the  conflagration,  the'> 
officer  stepped  to  a  box,  fastened  to  a  telegraph 
pole  in  Van  Diemen's  Avenue,   and,   opening  it 
with  his  key,  sent  to  the  fire  station  down  in  the, 
valley  the  call  of  the  section  in  which  it  stood. 
Number  Twenty-three.     Every  one  in  the  town 


ALIENS  5 

heard  this  new  sound,  two  hoots,  a  pause  and 
then  three  hoots  more.  It  stayed  the  glasses  in 
the  hands  of  the  revellers  in  Shovitzsky's  Hotel. 
Eesidents  who  were  winding  up  their  watches 
paused  and  went  to  the  windows  to  listen  again 
to  the  number.  Twenty -three.  Watchmen  in  the 
paper-mills  along  the  Pasayack  Eiver  peered  out 
and  saw  the  reflected  glare  of  the  fire.  A  burglar 
at  work  on  the  back  door  of  a  summer-house  in 
Montauk  Street,  which  was  in  Section  Thirty -six, 
listened  attentively  to  the  number  and  then 
proceeded  confidently  with  his  operations. 

And  then,  as  suddenly  as  they  had  appeared, 
the  flames  went  out,  and  the  melting  snow  quenched 
the  few  glowing  fragments  of  bamboo  and  linen 
that  remained.  The  auto  fire-engine,  the  pride  of 
the  townsmen,  had  scarcely  struggled  through  the 
snow  of  Broad  Street  and  attempted  the  steep 
incUne  of  Pine,  before  all  trace  of  the  disaster  was 
obliterated.  The  driver,  somewhat  nonplussed, 
braked  his  wheels,  and  got  down  to  investigate. 
He  found  four  people,  one  of  them  the  patrolman 
who  had  given  the  alarm,  peering  at  a  blackened 
hole  in  the  snow.  As  he  came  up  he  tripped  over 
an  invisible  wire  and  cursed  incoherently. 

"  Say,  Buck,  where's  your  fire  ?  "  he  demanded, 
pulling  at  the  wire  and  drawing  towards  him  a 
tangle  of  charred  rubbish.  The  patrolman  pointed 
to  the  hole. 

"  It  is  finished,"  said  one  of  the  men,  the  shorter 
of  the  two.     He  was  looking  down  seriously  at 


6  ALIENS 

the  ruins   as   though  trying  to   remember  some 
thing. 

"  Sure,"  said  the  patrolman.     "  But  what  is  it,  \ 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  I  think,"   said  the  short   man,    "  it   was  an  i 
aeroplane.     It  came  down,   you  know,   and  the 

gasoline  caught  fire  and "     He  struck  a  match 

and  sheltered  it  with  his  fingers,   but  the  wind 
blew  it  out. 

And  then  other  people  began  to  arrive. 


By  a  curious  fatality  the  newspapers  of  New 
York  City  were  unable  to  view  the  incident  dis- 
passionately. For  some  days  previously  they  had 
been  agitated  by  a  mystery  which  seemed  to 
promise  a  thrilling  denouement.  This  was  no 
other  than  the  affair  of  Hermann  Gottschalk,  the 
eminent  and  aged  millionaire.  To  explain  how 
that  gentleman  came  to  be  temporarily  connected 
with  a  case  of  which  he  himself  had  never  heard, 
it  is  necessary  to  recount  briefly  the  salient  points 
of  his  recent  history. 

Hermann  Gottschalk  was  ninety -eight  years  of 
age  and  had  lived  for  some  fifteen  years  in  virtual 
retirement.  It  so  happened  that  the  celebrated 
Chamock  Commission,  which  was  probing  the 
financial  methods  of  Wall  Street  at  this  time, 
suddenly  decided  that  certain  transactions  of 
Mr.  Gottschalk  in  1893  were  irregular,  and  issued 
a  subpoena  for  his  attendance  at  Washington  as  a 


ALIENS  7 

witness.  For  several  days  officers  beset  the  Gotts- 
chalk  residence  in  Fifth  Avenue,  but  without 
success.  Then  the  papers  took  the  matter  up. 
From  a  small  paragraph  on  the  third  page  of  the 
New  York  Daily  News  it  leapt  to  the  prominence 
of  the  left-hand  column  of  the  front  page,  and  was 
expanded  to  another  half  column  over  leaf.  New 
Yorkers  on  Christmas  morning  enjoyed  descrip- 
tions of  the  whole  Gottschalk  household,  including 
a  wart  on  the  butler's  nose.  On  Christmas  night 
the  News  reporter  who  covered  the  Erie  Basin 
and  all  the  maritime  district  southward,  happened 
to  discover  that  a  private  yacht,  laid  up  in  the 
Morse  dry  dock  for  the  winter,  had  been  denuded 
of  its  timber  coverings  and  taken  out  to  sea.  He 
telephoned  to  the  News  office  that  Gottschalk  was 
going  for  a  cruise  to  the  Bahamas  to  avoid  the 
inquiry.  Simultaneously  with  this  information 
came  word  that  Mr.  Gottschalk  was  visiting  his 
mother  in  Nebraska.  Up  to  this  the  business  had 
been  expensive  ;  but  now  the  money  squandered 
in  reaching  the  elusive  millionaire  became  terrific. 
The  Dustless  Derringer,  the  fastest,  cleanest  and 
most  expensive  train  running  between  New  York 
and  Chicago,  an  all-steel  train  carrying  a  drawing- 
room,  a  state-room,  a  club  car,  an  observation  car, 
a  stenographer  and  a  wireless  operator,  was  boarded 
on  the  afternoon  of  December  26  by  eighteen 
officials  armed  with  subpoenas,  all  bound  for 
Omaha,  Neb.,  and  seventy -two  reporters  armed 
with  cameras. 


8  ALIENS 

At  the  same  time,  the  New  York  Daily  News 
did  not  neglect  to  plan  out  a  scoop  of  their  own. 
The  report  of  the  Gottschalk  yacht  putting  to  sea 
in  mid-winter  reminded  a  bright  young  man  in 
the  office  that  Gottschalk  had  once  had  a  residence 
on  Saint  Simon's  Island.  He  did  not  know  where 
St.  Simon's  Island  was,  but  he  looked  it  up  and 
found  it  to  be  on  the  desolate  marshy  coast  of 
Glynn  County,  Ga.  When  he  mentioned  this  to 
the  editor,  as  bright  young  men  will,  the  editor 
told  him  to  telephone  for  a  berth  in  the  next  south- 
bound train  of  the  Atlantic  Coast  Line.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  the  bright  young  man  found  himself, 
twenty -four  hours  later,  steaming  into  Brmaswick, 
Ga.,  and  looking  forward  with  some  reluctance  to 
a  New  Year  far  from  Broadway. 

In  its  way  the  News  theory  was  sound  enough. 
It  transpired  that  the  yacht  sent  out  of  the  Morse 
Yard  really  belonged  to  Carl  Gottschalk,  but 
nothing  was  more  likely  than  that  Hermann 
would  borrow  his  brother's  yacht  for  a  clandestine 
cruise  until  the  energies  of  the  Chamock  Committee 
had  turned  upon  some  one  else.  Then,  of  course, 
he  could  not  board  her  in  New  York.  AVhat  more 
probable,  then,  than  that  he  should  be  awaiting 
the  yacht's  arrival  on  St.  Simon's  Island,  Ga.  ? 

The  bright  young  reporter,  ha\'ing  taken  a  room 
at  the  hotel  and  arranged  for  the  hire  of  a  motor- 
boat,  had  calculated  that  the  yacht  would  cover 
the  thousand  or  so  miles  between  New  York  and 
Brunswick  in  about  two  days.     This  gave  him  a 


ALIENS  9 

day  at  least  of  leisure  to  enjoy  himself,  especially 
as  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  pilot  who 
assured  him  that  nothing  could  come  up  to  St. 
Simon's  Island  without  everybody  knowing  it. 
So  he  went  round  and  enjoyed  himself,  inspecting 
the  three  streets  of  the  city,  interviewing  Strahan 
the  cotton  baron,  and  making  friends  with  the 
officers  of  a  British  steamer  loading  bales  about 
two  miles  up  the  Turtle  Eiver.  Occasionally  he 
would  take  the  motor -boat  and  reconnoitre  the 
channel,  but  no  sign  of  any  yacht  could  he  find. 
This  brought  him  to  December  30,  and  he  read  with 
ill -concealed  disgust  the  exciting  doings  near 
Omaha,  Neb.,  where  the  eighteen  officers  and 
seventy -two  reporters  were  encamped  in  the  snow 
round  the  residence  supposed  to  contain  the  aged 
Mrs.  Gottschalk  and  her  fihal  son.  On  this  evening, 
tired  of  kicking  his  heels  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
hotel,  he  donned  his  thick  coat  and  went  down 
to  his  launch,  planning  to  drop  in  on  the  Enghsh- 
men  of  the  cotton -tramp  and  incidentally  sample 
their  Scotch  whisky.  A  thin  mist  hung  over  the 
marshes  of  Glynn  as  he  chugged  up  stream.  On 
every  hand  the  horizon  was  blocked  by  sombre 
forests,  and  the  steamer,  moored  to  a  little  timber 
jetty,  and  standing  high  out  of  the  water,  pre- 
sented a  strange  and  incongruous  spectacle  in  the 
gathering  twilight.  Away  across  the  wide  expanse 
of  shallow  was  Turtle  Island,  a  low,  treeless, 
grass -grown  segment  of  marsh  land.  The  throbs 
of  his  engine  sounded  far  across  the  still,  gloomy 


10  ALIENS 

water.  He  seemed  to  be  the  only  moving  thing 
in  all  the  world.  He  felt  very  forlorn  as  he  cut 
his  way  across  the  dredged  channel  and  made  for 
the  steamer.  He  had  lost  all  faith  in  his  clues. 
He  had  begun  to  wonder  if  such  a  person  as  Her- 
mann Gottschalk  ever  existed.  He  had  never  seen 
him,  except  in  pictures.  Carl  Gottschalk  everybody 
knew.  Carl  gave  every  poHceman  in  New  York  a 
dime  on  Christmas  Eve.  But  Hermann  !  Might  he 
not  be  merely  an  invention  of  Carl  to  screen  himself 
from  too  much  curiosity  ?  Gee  !  that  was  worth 
writing  up  !  He  had  his  hand  on  the  tiller  to 
turn  round  and  return  to  the  hotel,  when  he  saw 
something  that  drove  all  thoughts  of  Carl  Gotts- 
chalk from  his  mind.  Across  the  marshes  to  the 
southward  he  saw  a  low-flying  object  with  green 
lights.  Instantly  the  bright  young  man  of  the 
New  York  Evening  News  turned  all  his  youth  and 
all  his  brightness  upon  this  new  aspect  of  the 
problem.  Here  he  was,  wasting  his  time  looking 
for  a  yacht,  while  Gottschalk  was  escaping  in  an 
aeroplane  !  As  he  headed  for  Turtle  Island  the 
object  sank  into  the  mist  and  became  indistinct. 
The  reporter  urged  his  launch  to  its  utmost  speed, 
for  darkness  was  falling  quickly,  and  moreover, 
a  fog  w^as  coming  up  the  river. 

It  took  him  about  ten  minutes  to  round  the 
eastern  end  of  Turtle  Island,  but  by  that  time  the 
hght  was  too  poor  and  the  mist  too  dense  for  him 
to  make  out  his  position.  He  found  grass  brushing 
the  side  of  the  launch  and  stopped  the  engine  to 


ALIENS  11 

listen.  The  roar  of  the  Gnome  !  The  young  man 
had  stood  by  an  aeroplane  and  heard  the  peculiar 
noise  which  the  engines  of  these  machines  make 
when  started.  He  could  not  mistake  it.  Jumping 
out  and  throwing  the  anchor  on  the  ground  to 
make  the  boat  fast,  he  began  to  run  through  the 
long  grass  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  It  grew 
louder.  It  was  to  the  right.  He  ran  to  the  right, 
and  found  himself  plunging  up  to  his  knees  in 
water.  He  stopped,  for  even  a  New  York  re- 
porter cannot  be  expected  to  swim  across  a  mere 
in  winter-time.  He  stopped,  and  looked  anxiously 
around. 

He  admitted  afterwards  that  the  noise  was  not 
really  to  the  right  at  all,  but  over  his  head,  but  he 
did  not  discover  that  fact  until  the  aeroplane  was 
nearly  out  of  sight  in  the  fog.  Even  when  nearest 
to  him  it  could  not  have  been  very  clear.  In  his 
telegram  to  the  News  he  called  it  a  bi -plane,  which 
proves  that  he  had  no  detailed  view  of  it,  for  the 
ruin  on  Van  Diemen's  Avenue  was  undoubtedly 
a  monoplane. 

As  the  machine  rose  the  sound  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  the  dripping  of  the  water  from  his 
coat  (he  had  stepped  back  on  seeing  the  thing) 
was  louder  in  comparison.  He  turned  once  more 
to  seek  the  launch.  He  was  disappointed  in  not 
getting  a  snapshot,  but  he  must  lose  no  time  in 
sending  in  his  story.  Obviously  Gottschalk  was 
gone.     The  yacht  was  out  at  sea  awaiting  him. 

After  all  it  would  be  a  scoop. 


12  ALIENS 

Certainly  the  first  effect  of  the  news  upon  New- 
York  was  to  recall  the  eighteen  officers  and  seventy - 
two  reporters  from  Nebraska.  It  dawned  upon 
several  editors  that  after  all  it  was  scarcely  likely 
that  a  man  of  ninety -eight  should  have  a  mother 
living.  Mr.  Carl  Gottschalk,  on  being  interviewed 
in  his  Maiden  Lane  office  by  a  battalion  of  reporters, 
said  he  was  not  sure  where  he  had  last  seen  his 
brother,  as  he  had  such  a  defective  memory. 
Asked  by  the  Daily  News  man  if  he  thought  it 
likely  his  brother  was  in  Nebraska,  Mr.  Carl  replied 
that  it  was  possible,  but  he  could  not  say.  Another 
reporter,  who  had  surreptitiously  opened  a  door  in 
the  office,  was  rewarded  by  a  view  of  a  private 
chapel  where  Mr.  Carl  was  accustomed  to  retire 
when  he  felt  the  need  of  spiritual  uplifting.  This 
very  nearly  switched  the  public's  attention  altc  - 
gether  from  Hermann,  and  in  fact  would  have  done 
if  the  Newark  papers  had  not  cleverly  connected 
the  three  green  lights  seen  by  the  people  in  Van 
Diemen's  Avenue  with  a  casual  reference  to  the 
same  signal  in  the  News  reporter's  story  from 
Georgia.  The  case  seemed  complete.  Hermann 
Gottschalk  had  attempted  to  elude  the  law  and 
fly  the  country  by  aeroplane.  Driven  out  of  his 
course  by  gales,  the  airman  had  endeavoured  to 
return  to  Manhattan.  On  New  Year's  Day  every 
trolley-car  from  Newark  and  every  train  from 
Jersey  City  brought  fresh  batches  of  reporters 
to  view  the  wreckage  on  the  vacant  plot  at  Van 
Diemen's    Avenue.     The    three    people   who    had 


ALIENS  13 

seen  the  tragedy  and  who  lived  just  opposite, 
found  their  front  room  choked  with  newspaper 
men.  The  postman  counted  twenty-six  pairs  of 
gums  on  the  verandah.  They  said  they  were 
EngHsh  people,  but  had  lived  seven  years  in  the 
country.  They  had  not  taken  out  papers.  They 
had  never  seen  an  aeroplane  before,  and  had  only 
seen  the  affair  by  accident.  They  could  not 
account  for  it.  They  were  MacAlKster  Geoffroy 
Legge,  the  well-known  artist,  and  JVIrs.  Legge, 
and  Hector  J.  Pedderick,  pubHcity  expert.  Their 
photographs  were  taken,  and  one  of  the  reporters 
was  caught  by  Mrs.  Legge  putting  a  fifty  dollar 
etching  in  his  pocket ;  for  reproduction  :  he  had 
no  idea  of  its  value. 

All  day  long  this  went  on.  The  snow,  the  war 
in  the  Balkans,  the  Chamock  Committee,  the 
purchase  of  the  Merovingian  Collection  of  the  Tsar 
by  Pierpont  Morgan,  were  all  relegated  to  back 
blocks  while  the  descriptive  giants  waded  in  and 
covered  sheet  after  sheet  with  the  life-story  oi 
Hermann  Gottschalk  and  his  sensational  death 
by  fire  and  snow. 

At  the  very  moment  that  the  fifth  edition  of 
the  evening  papers  was  being  piled  on  the  sidewalks, 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  in  fact,  the  bright 
young  man  of  the  New  York  Daily  News  was  wait- 
ing to  cross  Fifth  Avenue  at  32nd  Street  to  reach 
the  Pennsylvaxiia  Station  and  home.  He  was 
puzzled  over  his  chief's  reluctance  to  use  a  re- 
markable item  of  news  that  had  come  through 


14  ALIENS 

from  London,  an  item  quoted  by  their  correspondent 
from  The  Morning,  a  paper  owned  by  Lord  Cholme, 
the  EngHshman  who  had  been  convulsing  the 
world  with  amusing  descriptions  of  a  mysterious 
aviator  who  had  invented  an  aerial  telephone  and 
was  using  it  to  converse  with  the  private  sanctum 
of  The  Morning.  The  chief,  however,  would  have 
none  of  it.  He  made  remarks  about  Lord  Cholme's 
sanity  and  declared  that  even  if  a  man  had  crossed 
the  Atlantic  in  an  airship,  the  public  would  not 
beheve  it.  The  bright  young  reporter  was  unable 
to  see  the  whole  game.  It  seemed  to  him  a  great 
pity  not  to  use  it.  Two  or  three  weeks  before  the 
News  Sunday  edition  had  pubhshed  an  article  on 
the  possibility  of  a  wireless  telephone.  After  all, 
even  Englishmen  got  busy  sometimes  and  did 
astonishing  things. 

He  was  about  to  cross  the  street  when  he  was 
paralysed  to  see  Mr.  Hermann  Gottscha)!:  himself, 
heavily  wrapped  in  furs,  drive  past  in  a  Russian 
sleigh  drawn  by  three  horses  abreast.  There  was 
no  doubt  about  it.  Every  paper  of  the  day  had 
a  photograph  of  the  bald  head  and  hairless  face, 
hairless  save  for  a  white  moustache  turned  up  at 
the  ends  and  waxed.  The  bright  young  man 
nearly  collapsed  in  the  snow.  Dropping  his  grip, 
he  made  a  spring  and  caught  hold  of  the  silver- 
plated  handrails.  The  millionaire  opened  his  eyes 
and  gazed  placidly  at  the  bright  young  man  swing- 
ing himself  into  the  sleigh. 

'*  Mr.  Hermann  Gottschalk  ?  ''  said  the  latter, 


ALIENS  15 

opening  his  note-book.  The  old  man  shook  his 
head,  and  the  sleigh  came  to  a  standstill.  The 
footman  got  down  and  endeavoured  to  dislodge 
the  reporter. 

'*  Not  on  your  life/'  said  the  young  man.  ''  Say, 
Mr.  Gottschalk,  I  just  want  your  statement. 
Why  in  thunder '' 

"  Come  ofly"  said  the  footman,  pulling.  "  He 
can't  hear  a  word  you  say.  Stone  deaf.  Come 
off." 

The  reporter  sprang  away  and  raced  to  his  grip, 
hailing  a  taxi  on  the  way.  As  fast  as  possible  he 
travelled  back  to  the  News  building  and  told  his 
story  to  the  chief. 

But  that  gentleman  shook  his  head.  This  would 
not  do.  This  was  too  much  even  for  New  York. 
The  public  had  been  told  that  Hermann  Gottschalk, 
aged  ninety-eight,  had  gone  to  Nebraska  to  see 
his  mother,  and  they  had  believed  it.  Then  they 
had  been  told  that  the  same  man  had  taken  to  an 
aeroplane  to  escape  justice.  To  inform  them  an 
hour  later  that  he  was  now  driving  in  a  Russian 
sleigh  in  Fifth  Avenue  would  be  absurd.  They 
would  not  believe  it.  And  it  is  an  axiom  of  the 
newspaper  business  to  print  nothing,  not  even  the 
truth,  that  people  will  not  beHeve. 

But  the  next  morning  the  News  unloaded  the 
story  gradually,  beginning  with  nine  inches  of 
red  headlines.  It  was  exciting  reading,  but  it 
only  faintly  indicated  the  excitement  among 
editors  and  newspaper  men  when  they  reahzed 


16  ALIENS 

that  a  man  nearly  a  hundred  years  old  and  stone 
deaf  would  not  be  much  use  to  a  committee  at 
Washington.  They  reaHzed  that  it  would  take 
another  fifty  years  to  extract  the  evidence  from 
him. 

So  it  happened  that  not  only  had  the  Van 
Diemen's  Avenue  tragedy  nothing  to  do  with 
Hermann  Gottschalk,  but  the  pubUc  forgot  the 
matter  in  a  week.  The  papers  were  distracted 
by  numerous  fresh  stories  of  more  piercing  interest. 
A  Newport  banker  and  his  wife  had  committed  Jiari' 
hari  in  an  up-town  hotel,  and  the  Paris  papers 
were  sending  through  the  piquant  rumour  that 
the  Pope  had  been  secretly  married  to  a  Russian 
dancer. 

But  the  people  in  Van  Diemen's  Avenue,,  who 
had  seen  the  aeroplane  with  the  three  green  lights, 
did  not  forget  it.  Here  is  the  story  with  which 
that  strange  apparition  had  something  to  do. 


ALIENS 


B 


CHAPTER  I 

The    '' Scalding" 

Long  before  any  of  us  three  had  seen  him  we  had 
become  aware  of  his  existence,  and  our  brains 
were  continually  busy  about  him.  His  appearance, 
his  age,  his  gait,  his  history,  his  voice,  even  his 
ultimate  destiny,  we  conjectured  over  and  over 
again  as  one  by  one  the  evidences  of  his  existence 
accumulated  and  developed  in  our  consciousness. 
It  grew  to  be  quite  a  game  with  us,  this  collection 
of  data,  and  the  joking  rivalry  filled  in  much  of 
our  leisure  before  we  became  acquainted  with  many 
neighbours. 

I  think  Bill  was  the  first  to  notice  something 
unusual  about  the  family  next  door,  something 
neither  Enghsh  nor  American.  "  What  do  you 
think  !  "  she  exclaimed,  coming  in  one  morning  as 
I  was  busy  writing.  ''  She's  got  a  little  iron  grate 
on  legs,  and  there's  charcoal  burning  in  it." 

*'  Who  ?  Where  ?  "  I  asked,  coming  out  of  my 
work  with  a  start.  I  was  composing  an  advertise- 
ment at  the  time. 

"  Mrs.  Carville,"  said  Bill,  pointing  to  the 
window. 

19 


20  ALIENS 

From  the  window,  across  the  intervening  plot 
of  ground,  we  saw  our  neighbour  stooping  over  one 
of  those  small  portable  affairs  so  popular  in  Italy 
and  known  as  scaldini,  mere  iron  buckets  in 
which  coke  or  charcoal  burns  without  flame,  and 
which  are  carried  from  room  to  room  as  occasion 
arises. 

"  I  thought,"  I  said,  "  that  she  was  ItaHan. 
That  is  a  scaldino." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  Bill.  "  They'll  set  the  house  on 
fire  if  they  use  that  here." 

Bill  is  rather  hard  on  Italians,  I  think,  for  she 
has  an  undying  passion  for  what  we  English 
consider  to  be  cleanliness. 

"  No  wonder  they  are  dirty,"  she  remarked 
as  we  stood  at  the  window.  Now  this  was  untrue 
as  well  as  uncharitable,  for  Mrs.  Car\alle's  premises 
were  continually  festooned  with  snowy  Hnen  waving 
in  the  breeze.  Bill  should  have  used  the  word 
"  untidy."  I  don't  think  anyone  could  be  blamed 
for  criticising  Mrs.  Carville  as  untidy.  One  look 
at  her  estabhshment  supported  the  contention 
to  the  full. 

But  we  never  said,  even  among  ourselves,  that 
she  was  dirty  or  untidy.  Even  Bill,  that  demure 
reincarnation  of  the  Goddess  Hygeia,  never  used 
the  singular  pronoun.  It  was  always  "  They." 
It  struck  me  from  the  first  as  a  curious  persistence 
of  virtue  among  us,  that  we  should  have  the  grace 
to  discriminate  between  Mrs.  Carville  and  the 
environment  which,  incongruous  as  it  was,  seemed 


ALIENS  21 

nevertheless  to  be  her  choice.  So  potent  is  beauty 
in  the  souls  of  men  and  women. 

On  revision,  that  word  '^  beauty  "  scarcely  stands 
its  own  in  this  connection,  and  for  this  reason.  We 
three,  deriving  our  entire  sustenance  from  art  in 
some  guise  or  other,  had  three  widely  divergent 
opinions  upon  the  indispensable  attributes  of 
beauty  per  se.  From  my  experience  of  artists, 
this  condition  of  things  is  not  unusual.  We  always 
agreed  to  differ,  Bill  rapturous  among  her  flowers 
and  revelling  in  their  colour ;  Mac  catching  with 
a  fine  enthusiasm  and  assured  technique  the 
fugitive  tints  of  a  sunrise  through  a  tracery  of 
leaves  and  twigs ;  and  I,  quiescently  receptive, 
pondering  at  intervals  upon  the  subhme  mystery 
of  the  human  form,  especially  the  grandiose  render- 
ings of  it  in  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo.  Thus 
it  will  be  seen  that  of  the  three  of  us,  I  alone  was 
unprejudiced  in  my  predilections,  and  qualified^ 
however  inadequately,  to  do  justice  to  Mrs.  Car- 
ville.  Mac  was  bitter  against  her  because  she  had 
cut  down  a  tree.  That  it  was  her  own  tree  made 
no  difference.  To  cut  down  a  living  tree  was, 
in  Mac's  view,  a  sacrilege.  Bill  was  not  only 
displeased  with  the  slovenly  house  and  taciturn 
stand-offishness  of  the  woman,  but  had  an  ad- 
ditional grievance  in  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Carville 
grew  no  flowers  and  permitted  her  chickens  to 
wander  deleteriously  among  us. 

A  brief  and  passing  glance  from  the  street  would 
have  given  a  stranger  no  inkhng  of  the  state  of 


22  ALIENS 

affairs  between  us.  Indeed  Mrs.  Carviile's  domain 
and  ours  were  un-American  in  the  fact  that  there 
had  at  one  time  been  a  fence  between  us.  Even 
now  it  is  a  good  enough  fence  in  front ;  but  it 
gradually  degenerated  until,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
yards,  it  was  a  mere  fortuitous  concourse  of  rotten 
and  smashed  palings  through  which  multitudinous 
armies  of  fowls  came  at  unseasonable  hours  and 
against  which  all  Bill's  lady-like  indignation  was 
vented  in  vain.  As  we  watched  behind  the  cur- 
tains a  Dorking  stepped  through  and  began  to 
prospect  among  the  sumach  and  stramonium  that 
Bill  had  encouraged  along  our  frontiers,  under  an 
illusion  that  plants  labelled  "  poisonous  "  in  her 
American  gardening  book  would  decimate  the 
fowls. 

"  It's  like  their  cheek,"  said  Bill  explosively, 
*'  to  let  their  ..."  and  she  launched  into 
her  set  speech  for  the  occasion.  I  have  frequently 
observed  that  there  are  none  so  blind  as  those  who 
appear  to  see  everything.  For  myself,  though 
trained  habit  enabled  me  to  make  note  of  the 
Dorking,  my  whole  conscious  attention  was  riveted 
upon  the  little  group  round  the  scaldino  on  the 
back  porch.  Mrs.  Carville  was,  as  I  have  said, 
stooping  over  the  brazier.  Her  movements  were 
being  watched  not  only  by  ourselves  but  by  her 
two  children.  Fortunately  they  were  beyond  her, 
their  legs  planted  far  apart,  their  hands  behind 
them,  so  that  I  could  see  without  stint  the  magnifi- 
cent pose  of  the  woman's  body.     Her  long  arms 


ALIENS  23 

hovered  over  the  vessel,  the  left  resting  at  times 
upon  it,  the  other  selecting  long  pieces  of  fuel  from 
a  box  at  her  side.  The  Hne  of  her  back  from  hip 
to  shoulder  seemed  incredibly  straight  and  long. 
The  cold  wind  that  was  blowing  gustily  and  which 
was  the  ostensible  cause  of  her  preparations,  pressed 
her  thin  dress  to  her  form  and  showed  with  sportive 
candour  the  fine  modelling  of  bosom  and  hmbs. 
Chiefly  however,  I  was  attracted  by  the  superb 
disdain  in  the  poise  of  the  head.  It  was  a  dark 
head,  coiled  heavily  with  black  hair  and  set  back 
in  the  hollow  of  the  shoulders.  Her  face  may  be 
called  dark  too,  the  black  eye -brows  and  olive 
skin  being  unrelieved  by  colour  in  the  cheeks.  Her 
whole  expression  was,  you  might  say,  forbidding, 
and  I  was  not  surprised  when  one  of  the  boys 
received  a  push  as  he  bent  his  head  over  the  brazier. 
There  was  such  an  electric  quickness  in  the  gesture, 
such  a  dispassionate  resumption  of  her  former  pose 
that  one  involuntarily  conceded  to  her  a  fierce  and 
peremptory  disposition.  One  felt  that  such  a 
woman  would  Hsten  with  some  impatience  to 
complaints  about  predatory  fowls,  that  she 
would  stand  no  nonsense  from  her  children  either, 
that  .  .  . 

The  same  thought  flashed  through  our  minds 
simultaneously,  and  in  strict  accordance  with 
our  differing  temperaments  Bill  voiced  it. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  keeps  away — on  purpose,"  she 
said. 

That  was  the  way  we  always  referred  to  him. 


24  ALIENS 

Just  as  Mrs.  Carville  was  "  they  "  or  "  them ''  so 
her  husband  was  always  "he." 

"  I  wonder,"  I  assented. 

The  brazier  full,  she  rose,  the  handle  in  her  hand. 
Pointing  to  the  box,  she  spoke  to  her  children, 
who  hastily  removed  it  to  a  shed  at  the  bottom 
of  the  yard.  Mrs.  Carville  turned  to  enter  the 
house,  her  large  black  eyes  swept  our  windows  in 
a  swift  comprehensive  glance  of  suspicion  and  then 
she  vanished. 

I  retired  hastily  to  my  desk,  acutely  conscious 
that  we  had  been,  well,  that  we  had  been  impolite  ! 
Bill  went  away  without  speaking,  and  for  a  couple 
of  hours  I  was  absorbed  in  my  work.  Growing 
weary  of  the  thing,  I  took  up  my  pipe  and  went 
upstairs  to  the  studio. 

"  Just  in  time  for  tea,"  said  Bill.  '*  Have  a 
cookie  ?  " 

The  studio  was  in  some  disorder,  and  the  atmos- 
phere was  heavy  with  the  odour  of  printer's  ink. 
The  etching  press  had  been  dragged  out  from  the 
wall,  trays  of  water,  bottles  of  benzine,  rags  of 
muslin,  rolls  of  paper,  palettes  of  ink,  copper 
plates  and  all  the  materiel  of  etching  were  lying  in 
considerable  confusion  about  the  room,  and  Mac 
himself,  draped  in  a  blue  cotton  overall,  stood  in 
neghgent  attitude  against  an  easel,  drinking  a  cup 
of  tea.  I  had  caught  the  phrase  ''  They're  a  funny 
lot,"  and  I  divined  that  Bill's  hasty  offer  of  cookies 
was  a  mere  ruse  to  put  me  off  the  track  of  a  possibly 
interesting  conversation. 


ALIENS  25 

"  Finislied  ?  "  asked  Mac,  passing  me  a  cup  of 
tea. 

"  Not  yet,"  I  replied.     "  Another  thousand  words 
will  do  it,  though." 

Mac,  in  accordance  with  a  vow  made  in  all 
sincerity,  and  approved  by  us,  set  apart  one  day  a 
week  for  etching,  just  as  I  was  supposed  to  conse- 
crate some  part  of  my  time  to  literature.  At  first 
we  were  to  work  together,  select  themes,  write  them 
up  and  illustrate  them  conjointly.  This,  we  argued, 
could  not  fail  to  condense  into  fame  and  even 
wealth.  Our  friend  Hooker  had  done  this,  and  he 
had  cHmbed  to  a  one-man  show  in  Fifth  Avenue. 
But  by  some  fatality,  whenever  Mac  took  a  day 
ofi  for  high  art,  on  that  day  did  I  invariably  feel 
sordidly  industrious.  I  might  idle  for  a  week, 
smoking  too  much  and  getting  in  Bill's  way  as 
she  busied  herself  with  housework,  but  as  soon 
as  the  etching -press  scraped  across  the  studio - 
floor,  or  Mac  came  down  with  camera  and  satchel 
and  dressed  for  a  tramp,  I  became  the  victim  of 
a  mania  for  work,  and  stuck  childishly  to  my  desk. 
Personally  I  did  not  believe  in  Hooker's  story  at  all. 
Hooker's  mythical  librettist  never  materialised. 
I  was  always  on  the  look-out  for  a  secondhand 
book  containing  Hooker's  letterpress.  It  suited 
the  others  to  beheve  in  him,  but  even  a  writer  of 
advertising  booklets  and  "  appreciations "  has  a 
certain  literary  instinct  that  cannot  be  deceived. 
And  so  I  felt,  as  I  have  said,  sordidly  industrious 
and  inclined  to  look  disparagingly  upon  a  man  who 


26  ALIENS 

was  frittering  away  his  time  with  absurd  scratchings 
upon  copper  and  whose  hands  were  just  then  in  a 
most  questionable  condition. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  help  me/'  he 
sneered  over  his  cup. 

"  The  fit  was  on  me/'  I  explained,  and  my  eye 
roved  round  the  studio.  I  caught  sight  of  a 
piece  of  paper  on  a  chair.  Mac  made  a  movement 
to  pick  it  up,  but  he  was  hampered  by  the  cup  and 
saucer,  and  I  secured  it. 

"  Ah — ^h  !  ''  I  remarked,  and  they  two  regarded 
each  other  sheepishly.  '*  Very  good  indeed,  old 
man !  " 

And  it  was  very  good.  With  the  slap-dash 
economy  of  effort  which  he  had  learned  of  Van 
Roon,  when  that  ill-fated  genius  was  in  Chelsea, 
Mac  had  caught  the  salient  curves  and  angles  of 
Mrs.  Carville  as  she  stooped  over  her  scaldino,  had 
caught  to  a  surprising  degree  the  sombre  expression 
of  her  face  and  the  tigerish  energy  of  her  crouched 
body.  I  studied  it  with  great  pleasure  for  a 
moment,  and  then  it  recurred  to  me  that  he  had 
not  been  with  us  at  the  window.  I  say  recurred, 
though  I  had  known  it  all  along,  and  my  ejaculation, 
for  that  matter,  was  but  a  sign  of  triumph  over 
catching  him  at  the  same  game  of  peeping-tom 
that  we  had  been  playing  in  the  room  below.  Yet 
so  quickly  and  over-lappingly  do  our  minds  work 
that  at  the  same  moment  I  had  no  less  than  three 
blurred  emotions.  I  was  pleased  to  find  my 
friend  was  guilty,  I  was  pleased  with  the  sketch. 


ALIENS  27 

yet  puzzled  to  know  how  he  had  come  to  make  it. 
Suddenly  I  saw  light. 

"  You  were  on  the  stairs  ?  "  I  said,  and  pointed 
with  the  paper  over  my  shoulder.    He  nodded. 

*'  Happened  to  look  out/'  he  remarked,  setting 
his  cup  down. 

It  is  my  custom  to  risk  a  good  deal  sometimes  by 
uttering  thoughts  which  my  friends  are  free  to 
disown.  They  may  not  be  quite  honest  in  this, 
but  none  the  less,  according  to  the  social  contract, 
they  are  free  to  disown.  So,  in  this  case,  when  I 
said,  "  I  wonder  if  they  are  really  married,"  both 
of  these  generous  souls  repudiated  the  suggestion 
at  once.  A  red  spot  came  to  Bill's  cheek  as  she 
met  her  husband's  glance  and  flashed  the  two-fold 
fire  across  to  where  I  sat  smiling  and  sipping  my 
tea. 

**  Anybody  might  say  that  of  .  .  .  anybody  !  " 
she  protested,  and  I  saw  that  certain  scandalous 
and  unfounded  rumours  that  had  been  bandied 
about  the  Latin  Quarter  of  San  Francisco  (before 
the  earthquake)  still  rankled  in  a  usually  placid 
bosom. 

*'  Truly,"  I  repKed.  "  But  here  you  must  admit 
we  have  some  reason  for  suspicion.  Of  course," 
I  went  on,  looking  into  my  cup.  ''  Of  course,  I 
am  not  speaking  now  as  a  gentleman " 

**  No,  you're  not,"  she  interrupted,  examining 
her  toe. 

" ^but  as  an  investigator  into  the  causes  of 

psychological  phenomena.    Placing  them  upon  the 


28  ALIENS 

dissecting-table,  so  to  speak,  and  probing  with  the 
forceps  of  observation  and  the  needle  of  wit — — *' 

''  Of  Bunk  !  ''  snorted  the  etcher  rudely,  turning 
to  his  plates. 

"  But  my  dear  chap  !  ''  I  urged,  *'  let  me  explain. 
I  happened  to  be  reading  Balzac  last  night,  that  is 
all.  You  know  how  stimulating  he  is,  and  how 
readily  one  falls  in  with  his  plans  for  forming  a 
complete  Science  of  Applied  Biology  of  the  human 
race.  Put  it  another  way  if  you  like.  \Vhat  are 
the  facts  ?  Iteyn :  A  grass  widow,  obviously 
foreign,  presumably  ItaUan.  Item:  Two  children 
indisputably  American,  one  fair,  the  other  dark. 
Iteyn:  A  scaldino.  Iteyn:  Male  clothing  on  the 
line.  Iteyn :  A  resented  attitude  toward  the 
intelligent  and  cultivated  neighbours.  Item :  Ignor- 
ance of  the  well-known  fact  that  the  Indian  Summer 

is  now  setting  in.     Item :    shall  I   go  on  ? 

Have  we  not  here  evidence  sufficiently  discrepant 
to  warrant  a  certain  conjecture  ?  '*' 

''  Male  clothing,  you  said  ?  ''  remarked  Bill,  a 
certain  respect  for  perspicacity  in  her  manner, 
"  AVhen  ?  " 

"  The  last  time  I  came  home  with  the  milk," 
I  repHed.  "  The  moon  was  shining  with  some 
briUiance.  As  I  looked  out  of  my  window  before 
getting  into  bed  I  saw  some  one  moving  over  there. 
A  further  scrutiny  revealed  to  me  a  number  of 
undeniable  suits  of  pyjamas  which  were  being 
taken  hurriedly  from  the  line.'' 

"  You  didn't  say  anything  about  it  before  ?  " 


ALIENS  29 

"  No,  because  I  attached  no  significance  to  the 
fact  before.  To  tell  you  the  truth  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  they  were  doing  laundry  work  and 
that,  to  conceal  the  fact  more  effectively,  were 
doing  the  male  garments  at  night.  We  had  not 
then  heard  the  item  I  was  waiting  permission  to 
enumerate."' 

"  Is  it  one  we  know  or  one  you're  going  to 
spring  on  us  ?  "  inquired  the  lady,  reaching  out 
for  my  cup. 

"  You  may  know  it,"  I  repHed.  Mac  was  bending 
over  his  plate,  rubbing  the  ink  in  with  deft  fingers, 
and  I  saw  his  lowered  glance  flutter  in  my  direction 
for  a  moment. 

"  You  mean  Mac  knows  and  you  don't  feel 
sure  whether  he's  told  me,"  interpreted  Bill, 
shaking  the  tea-pot.     I  laughed. 

"  Into  that  we  will  not  go,"  I  said.  "  Suffice  it 
that  if  he  knows  it  was  because  I  told  him." 

"  I  hnew  it  was  something  you  were  ashamed 
of  "  she  exclaimed  triumphantly.  "Go  on  :  out 
with  it !  " 

"  How  can  I  be  ashamed  of  it  since  I  am  about 
to  tell  you  ?  "  I  demanded  incautiously. 

"  Why,  because  your  love  of  scandal  is  so  tre- 
mendous that  you  sacrifice  even  yourself  to  it !  " 
she  answered. 

I  took  my  cup  with  a  head  bowed  in  reverence 
before  such  transcendent  penetration. 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said.  '^  Here  is  my  item : 
They  correspond." 


30  ALIENS 

"  That's  nothing  to  go  on,"  cried  the  lady,  and 
could  have  bitten  her  tongue  an  instant  later.  I 
dared  no  more  than  smile.  Mac's  hands  trembled 
as  he  lifted  the  plate  from  the  gas  stove  and, 
giving  it  a  final  pohsh,  carried  it  to  the  press.  "  Oh 
well !  "  went  on  Bill  irrelevantly,  "  let  us  all  be 
honest  and  say  we're  interested.  If  he  exists,  he 
will  come  along  some  time." 

The  press  creaked  and  the  spokes  turned.  We 
both  paused  involuntarily  as  Mac  bent  over  and 
lifted  the  blankets.  This  was  always  a  moment 
of  anxiety  for  us  two,  when  the  press  creaked.  It 
was  a  theory  among  us  that  when  Samuel  Johnson 
wrote  "  The  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,"  he  had 
been  pulling  proofs  from  copper.  Bill  had  con- 
fessed to  me  that  she  could  not  help  holding  her 
breath,  sometimes.  He  turned  upon  us  with  a 
smile. 

"  If  we're  all  going  to  be  honest,"  he  remarked, 
'^  we  all  ought  to  know  as  much  as  each  other,  eh  ? 
Well  then,  tell  us  about  the  correspondence,  old 
man.     What  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Miss  Fraenkel  .  .  ."I  began,  and  Bill  breathed, 
''  I  knew  it !  "  I  continued,  "  In  the  course  of  a 
casual  conversation,  mentioned  to  me  the  fact  that 
letters  pass  between  them.  In  a  way,  I  suppose 
Miss  Fraenkel  shouldn't  do  it.  A  postmistress  is 
in  a  delicate  position.  And  yet  why  not  ?  One 
may  say  without  prejudice  that  a  certain  man 
writes  to  his  wife.  We  might  even  have  assumed 
it,  since  we  see  the  postman  dehver  letters  with  our 


ALIENS  31 

own  eyes.  Miss  Fraenkel,  however,  overstepped 
the  bounds  of  prudence  when  she  imphed  something 
wrong.  Her  exact  words,  as  far  as  I  can  remember 
were,  ^  It  is  strange  he  writes  from  New  York.'  " 

"  Does  he  ?  "  said  Bill. 

"  So  Miss  Fraenkel  says.  So  you  see,  your  .  .  . 
our  unspoken  thoughts  were  justified,  to  say  the 
least.  We  may  recast  Item  one  and  say,  A  grass 
widow,  undoubtedly  ItaUan,  with  a  husband  in 
New  York,  twenty  miles  away." 

"  Well,  in  that  case  it's  no  business  of  ours," 
said  Mac  as  he  spread  the  heavy  viscid  ink  upon  a 
new  plate.  "  They  may  have  their  troubles  but 
it's  pretty  clear  they  don't  need  our  sympathy, 
do  they  ?  " 

"  No,"  assented  Bill. 

*'  But  what  becomes  of  our  inquiry  ?  "  I  pro- 
tested. "  My  dear  Mac,  this  does  credit  to  your 
kind  heart,  but  since  we  are  agreed  to  be  honest, 
let  us  have  the  fruits  of  our  honesty.  Consider 
that  anyhow  we  are  doing  them  no  harm.  You 
are  too  gentle.  Indeed,  I  think  that  we  have  been 
stand-offish.  Why  should  not  Bill  call  and — er — 
leave  a  card  ?  " 

'*  Me !  Call  on  an  Italian  ?  "  The  voice  was 
almost  shrill. 

"  A  neighbourly  act,"  I  remarked.  "  And  we 
may  find  out  something." 

**  We're  a  pretty  lot,  us  and  our  honesty,"  put 
in  Mac,  in  some  disgust,  rubbing  his  nose  with  the 
back  of  his  wrist. 


32  ALIENS 

"  My  dear  friends,"  I  said,  "  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honour  that  is  how  modern  novels  are  made. 
If  you  put  an  end  to  espionage  the  book  market 
would  be  given  over  entirely  to  such  works  as 
'  The  Automobile  and  How  to  Drive  It '  and  '  Jane 
Austen  and  Her  Circle.'  " 

'^  Then  it's  a  very  shady  trade,  mean  and  dis- 
honourable," said  Mac. 

^'  We  agreed  upon  that,  you  remember,  when  my 
novel  was  refused  pubHcation,"  I  said  laughing. 

''  Yes,"  said  Bill.  "  But  when  they  accepted 
it,  you  got  very  stuck-up  and  refused  to  write  any 
advertisements  for  a  fortnight  and  said  that 
whoever  had  written  a  good  book  was  one  of  a  noble 
company,  and  a  lot  more  of  it.  It  depends  on  the 
point  of  view." 

"  Of  course  it  does,  ma  mie.  In  this  case,  the 
honest  point  of  view  is  the  one  we  must  take.  We 
must  forget  for  a  moment  that  we  are  EngHsh 
lady  and  gentlemen " 

"  Never  !  "  said  Bill  firmly,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

" and  remember  that  we  are  students  of  life. 

What  would  Balzac,  or  Flaubert  have  known  of 
life  if  they  had  been  merely  gentlemen  ?  Nothing  ! 
What  does  a  gentleman  know  ?     Nothing." 

"  Oh  stop,  stop  !  "  she  cried  laughing.  ''  Go 
down  and  get  that  thousand  words  finished." 

I  went  down. 


CHAPTER  II 

His  Children 

It  was  a  week  later,  and  we  were  sitting  on  the 
verandah  looking  out  across  Essex  County  towards 
Manhattan.  To  us,  who  some  five  years  before 
had  been  shaken  from  our  homestead  in  San  Fran- 
cisco and  hurried  penniless  and  almost  naked 
across  the  continent,  our  location  here  in  the 
Garden  State,  looking  eastward  towards  the  Wes- 
tern Ocean  and  our  native  isle,  had  always  ap- 
peared as  "  almost  home."  We  endeavoured  to 
impress  this  upon  our  friends  in  England,  explain- 
ing that  *'  we  could  be  home  in  four  or  five  days 
easily  "  ;  and  what  were  four  or  five  days  ?  True, 
we  have  never  gone  so  far  as  to  book  our  passage ; 
but  there  is  undoubted  comfort  in  the  fact  that  in 
a  week  at  the  outside,  we  could  walk  down  Piccadilly. 
Out  on  the  Pacific  Slope  we  were,  both  physically 
and  spiritually,  a  world  away. 

It  pleased  us,  too,  to  detect  in  the  configuration 
of  the  district  a  certain  identity  with  our  own  county 
of  Essex,  in  England,  where  a  cousin  of  Bill's  had  a 
cottage,  and  where,  some  day,  we  were  to  have  a 
cottage  too.     Our  home  is  called  Wigboro'  House, 

33  c 


34  ALIENS 

after  the  cousin's,  and  we  have  settled  it  that,  just 
as  you  catch  a  gHmpse  of  grey  sea  across  Mersea 
Island  from  Wigborough,  so  we  may  catch  the  glint 
and  glare  of  the  lights  of  Manhattan,  and,  on  stormy 
nights,  feel  on  our  lips  the  sharpness  of  the  salt 
wind  that  blows  across  Staten  Island  from  the 
Atlantic.  It  is  an  innocent  conceit,  and  our  only 
critic  so  far  had  been  Miss  Fraenkel,  who  had 
objected  to  the  name,  and  advocated  with  American 
succinctness  the  advantage  of  a  number.  As  Bill 
had  remarked  mournfully,  "  It  wouldn't  be  so  bad 
if  it  was  number  three  or  four,  but  Five  hundred 
and  Eighty -two  Van  Diemen's  Avenue  is  horrible  !  " 
We  had  given  in  to  Miss  Fraenkel  of  course,  save 
that  none  of  us  had  the  courage  to  disillusion  Bill's 
cousin.  We  still  received  from  him  letters  ad- 
dressed in  his  sprawling  painter's  hand  "  Wighoro' 
House,  Netley  Heights,  N.J.,  U.S.A'\  a  mail  or  so 
late.  We  never  told  him  of  Van  Diemen's  Avenue, 
nor  for  that  matter  had  we  mentioned  our  neigh- 
bours. Curiously  enough  it  was  he,  that  painter 
cousin  of  Bill's,  thousands  of  miles  away  in  that 
other  Essex,  who  told  us  something  that  we  were 
only  too  quick  to  appreciate,  about  our  neigh- 
bours. 

We  were  talking  of  him,  I  remember,  that  after- 
noon as  we  sat  on  the  stoop.  Bill  saying  he  would 
be  writing  soon,  and  Mac  raising  the  vexed  question 
of  the  Fourth  Chair.  You  see,  we  have  four  rock- 
ing-chairs on  our  verandah,  though  there  are  but 
three  of  us,  and  Bill  usually  claims  the  hammock. 


ALIENS  35 

It  was  no  answer,  I  found,  to  suggest  future  friends 
as  occupants  for  this  chair.  It  grew  to  be  a  legend 
that  some  day  I  should  bring  home  a  bride  and  she 
should  have  it.  I  submitted  to  this  badinage  and 
even  hinted  that  at  first  we  should  need  but  one 
chair.  ...  I  had  heard  .  .  .  nay  seen,  such 
things  in  San  Francisco,  before  the  earthquake.  In 
the  meantime  I  had  vamped  up  a  very  pretty  story 
of  the  painter-cousin  getting  a  commission  to  paint 
a  prima-donna  in  New  York  and  coming  over  to 
visit  us  in  great  state.  He  might  be  induced  to  sit 
awhile  in  the  vacant  chair.  It  seemed  more  pro- 
bable than  Bill's  legend,  for  I  knew  Miss  F , 

anybody  I  married,  say,  would  want  the  hammock. 
There  was  one  drawback  to  my  dream,  and  that 
was  the  humiHation  of  reveaHng  to  him  Van 
Diemen's  Avenue.  He  is  a  university  man,  and 
from  his  letters  and  Bill's  description  I  should  say 
he  has  a  rather  embarrassing  laugh  when  he  finds  a 
person  out  in  a  deception  like  that.  But  so  far  he 
had  not  yet  received  a  commission  to  paint  a 
prima-donna  in  New  York,  and  he  still  pictures  our 
Wigboro'  house  standing  alone  on  Netley  Heights, 
looking  out  across  rolling  country  to  the  sea.  Of 
course  the  photos  that  we  send  do  not  show  any 
other  houses  near,  and  the  verandahs  make  the 
place  look  bigger  than  it  really  is.  He  must  be 
tremendously  impressed  too,  by  Bill's  courageous 
declaration  (in  inverted  commas)  that  at  the  back 
the  land  is  ours  "  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see."  It  is 
true   too,   though  the   eye   cannot   see   very  far. 


36  ALIENS 

There  is  a  "  dip,"  you  know,  common  enough  to 
Triassic  regions ;  and  as  you  stand  at  the  back 
door  and  look  westward  the  sky  comes  down  and 
touches  our  cabbages,  fifty  yards  away.  It  does, 
really  ! 

Well,  we  were  talking  of  him  and  incidentally 
of  the  Fourth  Chair,  when  the  children  came  round 
the  corner  of  the  house  and,  finding  us  there,  stood 
looking  at  us. 

That  is  all ;  just  stood  staring  at  us,  with  feet 
planted  firmly  on  the  gravel,  hands  in  pockets  and 
an  expression  of  unwinking  candour  in  their  young 
eyes.  It  w^as  absurd,  of  course,  that  we  three 
grown-ups  should  have  been  so  embarrassed  by  a 
couple  of  urchins,  but  we  were.  The  cool  nerve  of 
it,  the  unimaginable  audacity  of  it,  took  our  breath 
away.  It  was  almost  as  though  they  were  saying, 
*'  Well,  and  what  are  you  doing  here,  hey  ?  " 
There  was  something  almost  indehcate  in  their 
merciless  scrutiny.     We  quailed. 

There  was,  moreover,  a  deeper  reason  for  our 
disquietude.  We  realized,  afterward,  that  those 
children,  one  dark  and  one  fair,  had  been  quite 
unconscious  of  our  existence  before.  Numberless 
times  they  had  passed  us,  even  crossing  our  land 
on  a  short  cut  to  the  forest  road,  but  without 
recognition.  And  though,  in  a  pause  between  two 
absorbing  interests,  in  a  moment  of  disengagement 
from  the  more  important  matters  of  American 
childhood,  they  now  deigned  to  favour  us  with 
their  frank  attention,  it  was  rather  disparagement 


ALIENS  37 

than  curiosity  they  exhibited.     We  now  know  the 
feeHngs  of  a  Living  Wonder  in  a  show. 

"  Hello,"  remarked  the  elder,  the  dark  one, 
dispassionately,  and  we  almost  jumped.  The 
other  child  fixed  his  eye  on  my  shppers,  which 
were  of  carpet  and  roomy.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  time  had  come  to  tell  them  of  their  lack  of 
good  manners. 

"  Hello,  little  boy,"  I  repHed.  I  decided  to 
approach  the  subject  of  manners  circuitously. 

"  You  ain't  so  very  big  yerself,"  said  the  elder 
boy,  quite  without  emotion  and  merely  as  a  stated 
fact.  I  admit  freely  that  this,  in  the  jargon  of 
the  streets,  was  "  one  on  me."  My  general 
diminutiveness  of  person  has  always  been  more 
than  compensated,  I  think,  by  a  corresponding 
magnitude  of  mind ;  but  one  is  none  the  less 
sensitive  to  wayside  ribaldry.  I  have  never  been 
able  to  quench  a  certain  satisfaction  in  the  fact 
that  the  children  who  mocked  the  prophet  were 
devoured  by  bears.  An  occasional  example  is 
certainly  wholesome,  if  only  to  bring  young  people 
to  their  senses. 

"  You  mustn't  speak  like  that,"  I  said  gently. 
"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  What  yo'  want  to  know  for  ? "  came  the 
answer,  and  he  joined  his  brother  in  examining 
my  shppers.  The  baffling  thing  was  that  there 
was  really  nothing  intentionally  rude  about  these 
two  rather  pretty  Httle  fellows.  They  were  merely 
exhibiting,  in  a  somewhat  disconcerting  fashion, 


38  ALIENS 

it  is  true,  the  influence  of  republican  freedom 
upon  natures  unwarped  by  feudal  traditions  of 
courtesy  and  nohlesse  oblige.  It  was  baffling,  as  I 
say,  but  encouraging  for  all  that.  I  felt  that  if  the 
others  could  restrain  their  indignation  and  I  could 
school  myself  to  pursue  the  catechism,  I  should 
eventually  discover  some  avenue  of  inquiry  that 
might  lead  to  fresh  knowledge  of  the  menage  next 
door.     I  tried  again. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  I  explained,  "  we  would  like  to 
get  acquainted  with  you.  You  tell  us  your  names 
and  we'll  tell  you  ours.     Eh  ?  " 

"  I  know  your  name,  I  do,"  he  said,  glancing  at 
my  face  for  a  moment.  I  put  out  my  hand  to  calm 
Bill's  restlessness.  It  appeared  afterwards  that 
she  "  thought  she  was  going  to  choke." 

"  Gee  !  you  do  ?  Well  then,  you  can  tell  me 
yours,"  I  went  on. 

"  Giuseppe  Mazzini  Carville,"  he  returned,  and 
before  we  fully  reaUzed  the  stupendous  possibihties 
which  this  implied  the  younger  child  raised  his  eyes 
to  our  faces. 

"  Want  to  know  my  name  too  ?  "  he  queried,  not 
a  quiver  of  an  eyelid  to  show  any  self-conscious- 
ness. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  "  what  is  it  ?  "  We  waited 
an  instant  breathlessly. 

"  Benvenuto  CeUini  Carville,"  he  pronounced 
carefully,  and  added  as  an  afterthought,  "  I'm 
Ben ;    he's  Beppo." 

"  Fancy   giving   a    child    a   name   hke   that ! " 


ALIENS  39 

muttered  Bill  compassionately.  "  I  call  it  a 
shame  !  "  And  she  leaned  over  towards  the  two 
children.  "  Do  you  know  my  name  then  ?  "  she 
asked. 

The  clear  steady  eyes  rested  for  a  moment  upon 
her  face,  and  a  slight  smile  curved  the  lips  of  the 
elder  as  he  answered. 

"  Ma  calls  you  the  woman  with  two  husbands," 
he  remarked. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Bill  and  fell  back  into  the  ham- 
mock. 

^'  Say  Kiddo,"  said  Mac,  reaching  out  a  long  arm 
and  capturing  them,  "  what  do  they  teach  you 
down  in  that  old  school  any  way,  eh  ?  " 

They  squirmed. 

"It  is  useless  to  try  and  force  anything  out  of 
them,"  I  warned.  "  Remember  the  school-teacher 
is  forbidden  by  law  even  to  touch  them."  They 
slipped  away  from  his  knee,  and  stood  as  before. 

"  Listen,"  I  continued.     "Got  a  father,  Beppo  ?  " 

He  surveyed  me  with  some  slight  astonishment. 

"  Sure,"  he  repHed.  "  Of  course  I  got  a  father, 
silly." 

"  Well,  where  is  he  ?  " 

They  looked  at  each  other,  their  arms  folded 
behind  them,  their  toes  digging  the  gravel. 

''  At  sea,"  said  Beppo,  and  Mac  slapped  his  knee. 

"  Eh  ?  "  I  said  blankly,  for  I  had  not  caught  the 
phrase. 

"  We  are  a  lot  of  duffers !  "  muttered  Mac. 
"  The  man  is  a  sailor  and  he's  at  sea." 


40  ALIENS 

"  Oh  ! "  I  said,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt  down- 
cast at  the  tame  ending  of  our  investigation. 
"  When  is  he  coming  home,  Beppo  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  he  answered  indifferently.  "  What 
do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  " 

Here  was  a  quandary.  I  was  caught  fairly  and 
squarely  prying  into  another  person's  business. 
I  don't  know  why,  but  these  two  Httle  chaps,  with 
their  clean-cut  unembarrassed  features,  their  re- 
lentless stare  and  their  matter-of-fact  outlook  upon 
life,  seemed  to  have  in  a  supreme  degree  the  faculty 
of  inspiring  and  snubbing  curiosity.  I  think  the 
others,  since  I  had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  ordeal, 
sympathised  with  me,  for  they  were  silent.  I 
stared  at  our  visitors  in  some  perplexity  ;  and  then 
in  the  most  exasperating  manner  they  turned  away 
and  ran  across  our  ground  to  a  huge  hollow  stump 
near  the  forest  path  and  began  to  play. 

"  Pretty  tough,  eh  ?  "  murmured  Mac,  rocking 
himself.  I  began  to  wonder  whether  I  ought  to 
have  been  more  indignant  about  that  reflection 
upon  my  height.  Bill  looked  up  and  twisted 
round  so  that  she  could  see  what  they  were 
doing. 

''  What  are  they  playing  ?  "  she  whispered.  No 
one  answered.  I  was  thinking.  Sailor — sixty 
dollars  a  month  rent — Italian  wife — letters  from 
New  York. 

"  I  will  see,"  I  said,  and  stepping  down  I  walked 
across  to  the  stump. 

I  was  fully  resolved  to  sift  the  matter  as  far  as 


ALIENS  41 

I  could  to  the  bottom.  I  was  aware  of  the  dis- 
advantage of  being  a  small  man,  for  I  saw  that  I 
should  be  compelled  to  climb  up  to  look  into  the 
stump.  But  with  small  stature  is  often  joined  a 
certain  tenacious,  terrier-like  fortitude.  I  advanced 
with  firmness. 

Ben  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Beppo,  a  stick  on 
his  shoulder,  stood  in  a  statuesque  pose  in  front  of 
the  stump. 

"  G'way  !  "  he  hissed  as  I  came  up. 

"  What's  the  game  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Indians.  I'm  on  guard.  G'way  !  "  he  whis- 
pered back. 

"  Is  this  the  fort  ?  "     I  searched  for  a  foothold. 

"  Yep.  This  is  the  middle-watch.  What'd  you 
butt  in  for  ?  " 

I  scrambled  up  and  looked.  Just  below  me, 
lying  on  a  soft  bed  of  mouldering  tinder  wood  and 
leaves,  was  Benvenuto  Cellini  Carville,  simulating 
profound  slumber.  As  I  clung  there,  a  somewhat 
undignified  figure,  he  opened  one  eye. 

*'  Let  me  play  too  ?  "  I  pleaded. 

"  Can  you  follow  a  trail  ?  "  said  Beppo's  voice  at 
my  side. 

''  Sure." 

"  Well,  you  go  down  there,"  he  pointed  to  Bill's 
cabbage  patch,  "  and  be  a  hostile,  see  ?  " 

I  saw.  As  I  slipped  down  and  hastened  away 
as  directed  (avoiding  the  cabbages),  it  seemed  to 
me  absurdly  paradoxical  that  the  only  way  to  be 
friendly  with  these  precocious  beings  was  to  be  a 


42  ALIENS 

"  hostile/'  I  looked  round.  Beppo  stood  at  rigid 
attention,  and  at  the  studio  back  window  I  saw 
two  grinning  heads  surveying  my  performance.  I 
was  not  at  all  clear  in  my  mind  how  a  hostile  should 
act;  it  was  thirty  years  since  I  had  read  ''Deerslayer.'" 
Should  I  drop  on  my  knees  and  crawl  through  the 
long  grass,  snooping  round  the  bean-poles  and 
taking  the  devoted  block-house  in  flank.  I 
swallowed  my  stifi-necked  Enghsh  pride  and  began 
to  crawl.  Then  I  saw  a  better  plan.  I  shpped 
through  the  sparse  hne  of  dwarf  oaks  smothered 
with  crimson  poison-ivy  that  bordered  the  forest 
path  and  crept  as  silently  as  I  could  towards  the 
street  until  I  was  abreast  of  the  stump.  As  I 
paused  Beppo  was  making  his  round  of  the  fort  and 
espied  me.  Instantly  crying  ''  Hostiles  !  ''  he  pre- 
sented his  stick,  banged,  reloaded,  banged  again, 
reloaded  and  banged  yet  again.  I  took  up  a  stick 
and  presented  it — bang  !  With  amazing  verisimi- 
Htude  Beppo  rolled  over — shot  through  the  heart. 
Really,  for  a  moment  I  had  a  mad  apprehension 
that  in  some  occult  way,  some  freak  of  hypnotic 
suggestion,  I  had  actully  WTOught  the  child  harm- 
I  stood  there  breathlessly  triumphant  and  wonder- 
ing whether  it  was  now  my  business  to  rush  in  and 
scalp  the  defenceless  prisoners.  I  became  aware 
of  a  head  and  a  stick  above  the  stump. 

"  Bang  !  "  said  the  garrison.  Obviously  I  was 
shot.  I  fell,  desperately  wounded,  and  endeavoured 
to  drag  myself  away  into  the  forest  of  dwarf  oaks, 
when  the  garrison  hailed  me. 


ALIENS  43 

"  Surrender  !  ''  he  called,  presenting  his  piece. 
I  put  up  my  hands.  He  cUmbed  down 
nimbiy. 

"  Now  you  help  me  bring  in  the  dead  and 
wounded/'  he  ordered,  and  together  we,  the  vic- 
torious garrison,  dragged  the  slain  warrior  into  the 
shadow  of  the  stump.  All  at  once  he  became 
alive,  jumped  up  and  danced  gleefully. 

''  Say,  that's  bully  !  ''  he  chanted.  "  You  play 
some  Indian  !  " 

I  looked  down  modestly  and  blushed  I  fear,  for 
I  knew  that  the  grinning  heads  were  still  at  the 
studio  window. 

"  Well,''  I  said,  picking  the  thistle  burrs  off  my 
trousers,  ''  let  us  sit  down  for  a  spell,  shall  we  ?  " 
To  my  surprise,  they  consented.  We  went  round 
to  the  stoop  and  I  took  a  big  rocker.  For  a  moment 
they  stared,  as  though  considering  me  in  the  new 
light  of  a  perfect  "  hostile." 

''  Say,"  began  Beppo,  "what  you  doin'  in  there  ?" 
and  he  pointed  to  the  house. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for  ?  "  I  retorted 
humorously,  stroking  his  dark  head.  I  am  fond 
of  children  in  a  way,  especially  boys.  He  twisted 
his  head  away,  but  without  ill-temper,  and  looked 
at  me  gravely. 

"  Don't  you  work  ?  "  he  demanded. 

**  A  httle,  sometimes,"  I  repHed  earnestly,  feel- 
ing for  my  cigarettes. 

"  What  sort  of  work  ?  "  said  Benvenuto,  stand- 
ing in  front  of  me. 


44  ALIENS 

"  We  make  pictures,"  I  said  evasively.  I  have 
a  silly  reluctance  to  talk  of  literature  as  work. 

"  Huh !  ''  they  remarked,  and  surveyed  me 
afresh. 

'*  What  does  your  father  work  at  ?  ''  I  asked 
cautiously. 

*'  He's  at  sea,''  said  Beppo. 

And  that  was  all  they  knew.  I  tried  the  ques- 
tion in  many  ways,  but  they  had  no  other  answer. 
Evidently  they  had  grown  up  with  that  phrase  in 
their  ears,  *'  at  sea,"  and  were  satisfied. 

''  Don't  you  want  to  see  him  ?  "  I  suggested. 
They  ''  supposed  so."    I  left  that  subject. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

''  Seven,"  said  Beppo.     ''  Ben's  six." 

"  You  are  very  precocious,"  I  remarked,  to  my- 
self chiefly. 

''  How  ? " 

"  Precocious,"  I  repeated,  rising  to  meet  the 
postman.  He  handed  me  several  business  letters 
and  one  for  Bill  with  an  EngHsh  stamp,  a  fat 
package. 

*'  Who's  that  from  ?  "  asked  Beppo,  and  I  was 
pulHng  his  ear  gently  as  Bill  came  out  with  a  rush. 
The  postman  went  along  to  the  next  house. 

At  this  moment  my  perceptions  became  blurred. 
I  remember  handing  the  letters  to  Bill  and  Mac. 
I  remember  the  quick  scuffle  of  the  two  children 
as  they  hastened  toward  their  own  home.  All  this 
is  blurred.  A\Tiat  stands  out  sharply  in  my 
memory  is  the  figure  of  Mrs.  Carville,  her  waist 


ALIENS  45 

pressed  hard  against  the  fence,  a  long  envelope  in 
her  hand,  gesticulating  to  the  children  as  they  went 
towards  her.  I  saw  her  waive  them  peremptorily- 
indoor  s  and  then  remain  by  the  fence,  regarding  me 
with  profound  distrust.  I  made  a  step  forward  to 
speak,  for  I  should  have  had  to  shout  at  that  dis- 
tance, but  she  turned  and  swung  up  the  steps  of 
her  porch  and  slammed  the  door. 

**  A  letter  from  Cecil,''  said  Bill  as  I  took  my  seat, 
a  little  downcast  at  the  encounter.  Cecil  is  the 
painter-cousin,  at  Wigborough,  Essex,  England. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  I  inquired. 

**  Eead  it  to  us,"  said  she  and  handed  me  a  dozen 
sheets  of  tracing  paper  pinned  together. 

I  began  to^read. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  LettePw  from  Wigborough 

"  Dear  Bill, — At  last  I  find  myself  with  an  hour 
or  so  to  spare,  so  here  goes  !  How  are  you  all  ? 
Well,  I  hope.  I  received  your  little  present  on 
the  anniversary.  Many  thanks,  old  girl.  How  on 
earth  do  you  remember  the  date  of  everybody's 
birthday.  Honestly,  I  should  have  let  it  pass 
without  noticing  if  that  wee  book  had  not  arrived 
two  days  before.  So  you  see,  you  are  of  some  use 
in  the  world  after  all !  (This  is  a  joke.)  How's 
Mac  getting  on  with  the  etching  ?  Tell  him  I've 
taken  to  using  only  forty  per  cent,  nitric  acid  in 
distilled  water.  This  gives  very  good  results  for 
all  ordinary  work,  much  more  certain  than  the 
nitrous  and  doesn't  make  such  a  stink.  There's 
no  demand  just  now  for  modern  work,  in  England 
at  any  rate.  I  can  hardly  believe  what  you  say 
about  the  shows  in  New  York.  London's  dead 
for  etchers.  Every  dealer  is  clamorous  for  copies 
of  the  old  masters.  The  rotten  thing  is  that  it 
pays  better  than  doing  original  work,  you  know. 
I  have  a  job  on  now — twenty  plates  at  £50  a  plate, 
simply  copying  Girtins  and  Bartolozzis.     I  shall 

46 


ALIENS  47 

do  four  plates  a  year.  I  take  things  pretty  easily, 
work  in  the  morning,  potter  round  the  garden  in 
the  afternoon,  tennis  and  cycling  when  the  weather 
permits.  This  has  been  a  terrible  summer.  Eng- 
lish weather  gets  worse,  I  believe.  We  had  rain 
for  a  solid  week  in  July.  I  was  out  on  a  tramp 
through  the  midlands  and  got  caught  in  it,  which 
reminds  me  of  a  most  remarkable  chap  I  met  at 
the  time.  I  really  must  tell  you  about  him, 
because  I  don't  remember  anyone  who  has  so 
impressed  his  personality  upon  me  as  this  man 
did. 

"  It  was  this  way.  I  had  been  sketching  round 
about  Market  Overton,  and  getting  rather  sick  of 
the  incessant  rain,  so  I  packed  up  my  knapsack 
and  started  home.  It  really  is  much  more  jolly 
walking  in  the  rain  than  sitting  in  a  stuffy  inn 
parlour  waiting  for  it  to  stop.  Well,  at  Peterboro' 
I  heard  the  country  eastward  was  flooded  and 
farmers  ruined.  Of  course,  my  road  lay  through 
March  and  Ely  to  Newmarket  and  Colchester,  and 
I  wouldn't  believe  the  boys  who  called  to  me  that 
I'd  be  stopped  ;  but  sure  enough,  not  two  miles 
east  of  Peterboro'  the  road  slid  under  water  and 
people  were  punting  themselves  about  on  doors, 
and  cooking  their  grub  upstairs.  In  the  fields  the 
hay-cocks  and  corn -ricks  were  just  showing  them- 
selves above  the  water.  It  made  one's  heart  ache 
for  the  farmers.  Well,  I  turned  back  of  course, 
and  took  the  London  road  to  Huntingdon,  which 
runs  high  all  the  way  to  Alconbury.     I  was  getting 


48  ALIENS 

jolly  tired  and  wondering  if  I  should  find  a  decent 
bed  before  I  reached  Huntingdon,  when  I  came  to 
Saxon  Cross.  At  the  cross-roads  stands  a  fine  inn 
all  by  itself,  and  to  judge  by  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses in  the  visitors'  book,  it  is  nearly  as  well  known 
in  America  as  in  England.  One  lady,  a  Mrs. 
Virginia  Benttler,  of  Ohio,  wrote  down  that  it 
'  was  just  like  a  real  home.'  I  wonder  what  in 
the  world  she  meant  by  that.  The  Saxon  Cross 
Hotel  is  not  really  a  hotel  at  all,  being  a  hunting 
inn.  But  it  is  very  comfortable,  with  brushes 
hung  all  round  the  walls  and  fine  old  engravings 
of  sporting  scenes  in  all  the  rooms. 

"  At  first  I  only  went  into  the  bar-parlour  to 
get  a  drink.  It  was  rather  dark  in  there,  for  it 
was  very  near  sunset  and  the  windows  were  small, 
and  I  had  slipped  off  my  knapsack  and  dropped 
into  a  big  comfortable  chair  before  I  noticed  a 
clean-shaven  man  with  a  big  hooked  nose  and 
gleaming  eyes  seated  in  the  far  corner.  It  was  like 
the  beak  of  a  bird,  that  nose,  and  I  was  so  fascinated 
by  it  that  I  didn't  answer  the  landlord  when  he 
came  in  and  said  '  Good  evening.'  The  man 
opposite  said  '  Good  evening '  too,  so  I  suppose 
that  it  must  have  been  just  a  mistaken  idea  of 
mine,  but  I  really  thought  at  first  that  he  had 
something  against  me,  his  glance  was  so  confound- 
edly malevolent.  He  was  a  tall  young  chap  in 
a  Norfolk  suit  with  a  soft  silk  collar  and  scarlet 
tie,  russia -leather  shoes  and  a  watch  in  an  alligator 
case  on  his  left  wrist.    A  gentleman  evidently  by 


ALIENS  49 

the  look  of  him  and  when  he  said  to  me,  in  the 
refined  voice  of  the  ordinary  university  man,  '  Are 
you  walking  down  country  ?  '  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  he  was  O.K.  and  began  to  converse. 

"  One  thing  rather  puzzled  me,  and  that  was 
the  fact  that  he  and  the  landlord  did  not  speak  to 
each  other.  While  I  was  drinking  my  whisky  they 
both  talked  to  me  and  I  to  them,  but  they  did  not 
exchange  a  word.  I  thought  it  was  strange  that  a 
landlord  should  ignore  a  guest  like  that,  especially 
as  the  guest  didn't  look  as  if  he  would  stand  much 
ignoring.  Indeed,  there  was  a  sort  of  glint  in  his 
dark  eyes  as  he  made  the  most  ordinary  remark 
that  struck  me  as  particularly  baleful.  However, 
we  talked  of  the  floods  and  my  tramp  and  hunting, 
etc.,  and  finally  I  decided  to  stop  the  night  there. 
The  landlord  went  off  to  order  supper  and  my  new 
friend  came  over  and  sat  down  beside  me.  Some- 
how or  other  I  found  myself  talking  over  old  times. 
On  thinking  the  matter  over  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  his  use  of  one  or  two  words 
like  '  tool '  meaning  '  to  run  hard,'  that  led  me  to 
accept  him  as  one  of  us.  '  Topping '  was  another 
word.  Before  I  was  aware  of  it,  and  without  his 
definitely  stating  the  fact,  I  was  treating  him  as  a 
pubhc -school  man. 

"  '  Do  you  know  Surrey  ?  '  he  asked  me.  '  It's 
rather  jolly.' 

"  '  I  know  Guildford/  I  said.  '  I  was  at  school 
there.' 

Were  you  really  ?  '  he  repHed,  and  he  began 

P 


50  ALIENS 

to  hum  '  As  I  ivas  going  to  Salisbury,'  which  is 
Winchester  and  nothing  else  as  yoii  will  remem- 
ber. That  settled  it,  and  I  asked  him  whose  house 
he  was  in.  '  Jerry  Bud's/  he  told  me.  '  I  was  in 
old  Martin's/  I  said.  '  Did  you  know  Belvoir  ? 
He  was  in  Bud's.' 

"  *  The  wine  merchant's  son  ?  '  he  said,  and  I 
nodded. 

"  He  gave  me  a  cmious  look  at  this,  as  though 
he  was  suspicious  of  me.  '  Seen  him  lately  ?  '  he 
asked.  *  Not  for  years,'  I  said.  *  What  became 
of  him  ?  '  '  Oh,  I  don't  knov/,'  he  said  as  though 
reheved.  '  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  kept  it  up. 
He  went  into  the  army,  I  believe.' 

"  We  talked  on  like  this,  giving  each  other  httle 
items  of  information  about  different  fellows  we 
knew,  and  gradually  I  gave  him  my  own  history, 
what  there  is  of  it.  There  isn't  much  as  you 
know ;  Slade,  Beaux  Arts,  Chelsea,  and  now  Wig- 
borough.  He  wasn't  a  bit  interested,  didn't  seem 
to  know  what  the  word  artist  meant.  Eegular 
stereotyped  pubHc-school  man  in  that.  And  he 
didn't  offer  me  a  drink,  I  noticed,  after  we  had  had 
a  peg  or  two  at  my  expense.  However,  when  the 
bath  was  ready  and  I  got  up  to  go  to  it,  he  said, 
*  I'll  take  supper  with  you  if  you  don't  mind.' 
I  said,  '  with  pleasure,'  '  charmed/  of  course,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  and  went  off.  I  met  the 
landlord  as  I  was  coming  down  and  buttonholed 
him.     He  told  me  all  about  it  at  once. 

*'  *  Mr.    Carville,    sir  ?     Yes,    that's   his   name. 


ALIENS  51 

Well,  it's  a  rather  curious  case.  I  don't  know  what 
to  make  of  it  myself.  He  came  down  here  with  a 
party  of  university  gentlemen  about  a  month  ago. 
Very  nice  gentlemen  they  were,  sir,  and  were  very 
free  with  their  money,  Mr.  Carville  especially. 
And  then  they  all  went  off  except  him  with  a 
motorin'  party  that  spent  a  week-end  here.  Mr. 
Carville  he  said  they  was  coming  back,  you  see,  and 
he'd  wait  for  'em.  Well,  that's  three  weeks  gone  and 
he's  still  here  as  you  see.  He  says  that  he  expects 
a  cheque  any  day,  but  up  to  the  present .' 

"  '  Why,  hasn't  he  got  any  money  ?  '  I  said. 

*' '  Well,  at  present,  sir,  there's  a  month's  bill. 
Bein'  a  gentleman,  of  course,  I  knew  it  'ud  be  all 
right,  so  I  let  it  run.' 

"  '  Perhaps  he's  overdrawn,'  I  said. 

"  '  It's  possible,  sir,'  said  the  landlord. 

"  Well,  I  went  down  to  supper,  full  of  the  poor 
chap's  story,  and  found  him  at  the  table  walking 
into  a  hefty  veal-and-ham  pie,  and  with  a  bottle 
of  wine  at  his  elbow. 

"  '  Come  on,'  he  says,  '  or  you'll  be  too  late.' 

''  We  went  at  it  and  made  a  good  meal,  and  he 
accepted  one  of  my  cigars.  It  suddenly  occurred 
to  me  that  I  knew  nothing  definite  about  the  man. 
He  hadn't  even  told  me  his  profession.  He  wasn't 
Church,  that  was  clear.  He  wasn't  Navy.  I 
didn't  think  he  was  Bar  either.  Army  ?  Yes, 
but  you  know  a  chap  in  the  army  is  bound  to  let 
something  out  about  himself  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation.   And  moreover,  you  don't  find  army 


52  ALIENS 

men  hiding  in  hunting  hotels  in  July.  Carville  ? 
Carville  ?  And  then  I  decided  he  was  proud  and 
kept  quiet  for  fear  I  would  offer  him  a  loan.  Poor 
chap  ! 

*'  There  was  no  one  else  staying  at  the  Saxon 
Cross  Hotel  that  night,  and  we  had  the  big  smoking- 
room  to  ourselves.  And  after  a  time  I  put  it  to 
him  point  blank  :  '  What  on  earth  are  you  hanging 
about  down  here  for,  man  ?  ' 

**  *  Simply  because,'  said  he,  '  I  haven't  the  cash 
to  pay  my  bill,  and  the  inland  revenue  has  run 
dry.' 

"  '  Where  do  you  bank  ?  '  I  asked,  and  he  slapped 
his  pocket. 

"  '  Pa's  bank,'  he  replied,  '  but  he  is  in  a  bit  of 
a  temper  with  me,  I  think.  If  I  could  only  get  up 
to  town.' 

"  '  Why  didn't  you  explain  to  the  landlord  ?  ' 
I  asked  him.  He  looked  at  me  with  a  scowl.  '  I 
don't  explain  anything  to  people  of  that  class,'  he 
said. 

"  '  A\Tiat'll  you  take  ?  '  I  asked  him,  and  he 
leaned  over  and  put  his  face  close  to  mine.  '  Oh, 
damn  the  money,'  he  said.  '  The  fellow  will  take 
an  lOU  if  you  endorse  it.'  '  Nay,'  I  said.  '  Let 
me  pay  it,  and  when  your  ship  comes  home,  all 
right.'  He  took  another  whisky.  '  Will  you  ?  ' 
he  said.     *  Will  you  help  a  stranger  Hke  that  ?  ' 

"  'An  old  public  school  man  is  not  a  stranger,'  I  said. 
*  I  think  your  pals  are  rather  a  rotten  lot  to  leave 
you  in  the  lurch  Hke  this.'    *  Fair  weather  friends,' 


ALIENS  53 

he  answered.  '  Young  men  with  too  much  money. 
Very  decent  chaps  so  long  as  you  have  plenty  of 
cash.  Very  awkward.  I  have  business  in  town 
as  a  matter  of  fact.  Will  you  really  take  my 
lOU  for  this  ?     It's  only  a  few  quid,  you  know.' 

"  It  was  fourteen  pounds,  and  took  up  the 
balance  of  my  holiday  stock.  Eather  foohsh  I 
know  you  will  say,  but  after  all  we  ought  to  stand 
by  each  other.  And  it  was  worth  it.  Honestly  it 
was  worth  it !  That  chap  became  the  most  animated 
creature  in  Huntingdonshire  when  the  arrange- 
ment was  concluded.  He  opened  the  piano  and 
sang  song  after  song,  he  jabbered  at  me  in  French, 
he  got  on  the  big  table  and  danced,  he  took  a  tum- 
bler and  a  napkin  and  did  conjuring  tricks,  he 
ordered  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  cigars.  I  was 
rather  tired  when  I  came  in,  but  he  would  have 
none  of  it.  He  told  me  stories,  and  I  judged  he 
must  have  travelled  a  good  deal.  He  asked  me  if 
I  knew  anything  about  automobiles.  I  rather 
wondered  at  this.  '  I  am  going  to  take  up  an 
agency,'  he  said.  '  That's  why  I  want  to  get  to 
town.'  It  seemed  a  mad  thing  for  a  gentleman  to 
do,  and  I  said  so.  He  darted  a  fierce  look  at  me 
over  his  glass  of  brandy.  '  It  takes  a  gentleman 
to  sell  to  a  gentleman,'  he  said. 

"  I  didn't  lie  awake  very  long  after  we  did  go 
to  bed,  I  can  assure  you.  We  took  our  candles,  I 
remember,  and  I  told  him  we  must  breakfast 
together.  The  next  thing  I  remember  was  the 
chambermaid  knocking  at  my  door  and  saying  it 


54  ALIENS 

was  ten  o'clock.  Of  course  lie  was  gone.  YouVe 
been  expecting  me  to  tell  you  that,  I  suppose.  So 
he  had  gone  and  I  was  fourteen  pounds  to  the  bad, 
unless  he  redeemed  his  lOU.  He  had  told  the 
landlord  to  drive  him  into  Peterboro'  ;  and  as  I 
came  down  to  breakfast  the  trap  returned.  Of 
course,  neither  of  us  ever  expected  to  see  him 
again,  and  when  I  looked  at  his  lOU  in  the  cold 
light  of  the  day,  it  seemed  a  very  flimsy  guarantee 
for  my  money.  There  was  only  one  thing  about 
that  lOU.  It  was  written  on  the  unused  page 
torn  from  a  letter,  and  the  watermark  of  the  paper 
was  Lydgate  Bond.  It  was  the  same  size  as  Trojan 
Club  paper  too,  for  you  know  I  belong  to  the 
Trojan  Club,  and  Trojans  are  not  men  who  write 
to  outsiders  much.  Not  on  club  paper  anyway. 
In  fact  the  very  audacity  of  the  man  led  me  to 
blame  myself  for  doubting  him.  He  had  not  behaved 
just  as  a  gentleman  should,  but  on  the  other  hand  he 
had  done  nothing  underhand.  There  was  a  damn- 
you  look  about  him  that  made  it  unbelievable  that 
he  was  a  fraud.  Soon  after  breakfast  I  set  out  on 
my  tramp,  and,  going  through  Stilton  and  Hunt- 
ingdon, made  for  Cambridge.  All  the  way  along 
I  could  not  help  thinking  about  my  boon  com- 
panion of  the  night  before,  and  wondering  if  I 
should  ever  meet  him  again.  It  seemed  very 
unlikely.  He  was  so  interesting,  quite  apart  from 
his  peculiar  financial  position,  and  he  gave  one 
such  an  impression  of  indomitable  will  power,  with 
his  hawk-like  face  and  brilhant  eyes,  that  I  wished 


ALIENS  55 

I  had  made  some  sketches  of  him.  But  he  had  not 
even  asked  to  see  my  portfoHo. 

"  Two  or  three  days  later  I  reached  home,  and 
in  the  general  worry  of  getting  into  harness  again 
I  forgot  my  gentleman  for  a  while.  It  so  happened, 
however,  that  my  dealer,  about  a  fortnight  later, 
asked  me  to  run  up  and  call  at  his  place  in  the 
Haymarket,  as  he  had  a  commission  for  me  and 
his  chent  wanted  to  see  me.  I  hiked  into  Col- 
chester and  took  the  train  to  London.  Business 
over,  I  went  round  to  look  in  at  the  Trojan's  before 
I  took  a  taxi  for  Liverpool  Street.  Just  as  I  turned 
into  Dover  Street,  an  enormous  claret- coloured  car 
came  up  with  a  horrible  noise  on  the  horn,  and 
stopped  at  the  Trojan's  door-step.  I  know  there 
are  plenty  of  cars  of  large  size  about,  but  this  one 
was  overwhelming.  Everything  about  it  was  huge. 
The  head-Hght  was  as  big  as  a  dog-kennel,  and  the 
steering-wheel  was  a  yard  across.  As  the  car 
stopped  a  lot  of  fellows  got  out  of  the  tonneau  and 
the  driver  followed,  taking  off  his  goggles. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Bill,  it  is  just  as  you  imagine. 
The  driver  was  my  companion  of  the  Saxon  Cross 
Hotel.  He  recognised  me  at  once  as  I  turned  to 
enter  the  Club.  He  really  was  a  big  man  and  he 
looked  much  bigger  in  his  long  motoring  overall 
than  in  his  knickerbockers.  '  Great  Scott ! '  he 
exclaimed.  '  It's  you !  Do  come  in.  I  say,  you 
chaps,'  he  called.  '  Here's  a  bit  of  luck.  A  friend 
of  mine.'  I  was  introduced  and  he  towered  over 
me  smiling,  his  great  hook  nose  dividing  his  face 


56  ALIENS 

and  distracting  one's  attention  from  his  eyes.  We 
sat  down  to  tea,  and  he  told  the  other  men  the  tale 
of  our  meeting,  omitting  any  mention  of  the  four- 
teen pounds  however,  for  which  I  was  rather  glad. 
I  shouldn't  like  those  chaps  to  think  1  was  a  bally 
usurer.  I  made  a  move  to  go,  but  he  wouldn't 
hear  of  it.  I  was  to  go  to  his  place  to  dinner.  We 
went  in  the  car.  It  was  more  like  an  omnibus 
than  a  private  vehicle.  I  sat  beside  him  as  we  flew 
down  Dover  Street,  across  Piccadilly  and  into  St. 
James.  He  told  me  he  had  sold  three  cars  Hke 
this  in  a  week  to  Lord  This  and  the  Duke  of  That — 
I  forget  the  names.  He  told  me,  moreover,  that 
his  commission  on  each  car  was  four  hundred 
pounds.  And  when  we  reached  his  chambers  and 
I  saw  his  furniture  and  flowers  and  pictures  and 
servants'  livery,  I  could  quite  beheve  it.  He  was 
living  at  the  rate  of  ten  thousand  a  year.  Well, 
we  dined  as  we  were,  Carville  insisting  that  as  I 
was  up  from  the  country  they  should  bar  evening 
dress  for  one  night.  This  was  rather  pretty  in  its 
way,  and  I  found  he  was  a  curious  mixture  of 
prettiness  and  downright  brutal  ruthlessness.  I 
found  a  man  I  knew  slightly  among  the  guests,  a 
chap  named  Eflon,  son  of  the  soap  man,  and  he 
told  me  that  Carville  was  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary men  he  had  ever  met,  that  women  would 
almost  come  to  him  at  the  crooking  of  his  finger, 
and  even  men  of  mature  age  were  dominated  by 
him.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  soon  after  Effon 
told  me  this,  there  was  a  case  in  point.     Carville's 


ALIENS  57 

flat  looked  from  the  second  floor  on  St,  James 
Street.  One  of  the  men  who  lived  at  Chislehurst 
wanted  to  catch  the  12.6  at  Victoria  and  mentioned 
casually  to  the  servant  to  bring  a  car  round.  '  You 
won't  catch  the  12.6,'  says  Carville.  'Oh  yes  I 
shall,'  said  the  other  man.  '  I  bet  you  a  fiver  you 
won't,'  says  Carville.  '  Done,'  said  the  other. 
It  was  about  twenty  minutes  to  twelve  then,  and 
in  the  buzz  of  conversation  and  a  couple  of  games 
of  cards  Carville  forgot  his  bet  for  a  moment. 
Suddenly  he  saw  that  the  fellow  was  gone.  He 
rushed  to  the  door  and  found  it  locked.  Of  course 
we  all  saw  the  game,  and  beHeved  that  Carville 
would  laugh  and  admit  himself  out -manoeuvred. 
Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  turned  on  us,  one  hand  on  the 
door  handle,  and  his  face  grew  absolutely  black 
with  rage.  Honest  Injun,  I  was  scared  of  him 
then !  He  bounded  across  the  room,  opened  the 
window,  sprang  out  upon  the  big  stone  coping 
and  ran  along  to  the  next  flat.  Here  he  opened 
the  window — (I've  heard  afterward  that  the 
people  were  just  getting  into  bed) — stepped  in, 
explained  he  was  doing  it  for  a  bet,  ran  to  the 
door,  down  the  stairs,  and  taking  a  flying  leap 
from  the  top  step  landed  with  both  feet  on  the 
bonnet  of  the  car  just  as  it  was  starting.  Of  course, 
he  smashed  the  sparking  plugs,  ignition  gear  and 
a  lot  of  other  details.  We  all  crowded  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.     He  had  won  his  bet. 

"  He  came  back  smiling  and  assuring  the  chap 
that   the   morning    would   do    just    as    well  for 


58  ALIENS 

Chislehurst.  The  party  broke  up  soon  after  and  we 
went  to  bed.  At  breakfast  the  next  morning  he 
was  charming,  wrote  me  a  cheque  for  the  money, 
sitting  in  a  gilt  chair  and  writing  on  a  Louis  Seize 
secretaire. 

"  '  I  forgot  about  you,'  he  told  me.  '  I  had  to 
rush  round  rather  when  I  came  to  town,  and  it 
put  the  matter  out  of  my  head.  You  don't  go  in 
for  motoring,  I  suppose,  down  in  Essex  ?  '  I  said, 
no,  I  was  working.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  '  I 
race  to-day  at  three,'  he  said.  '  Where  ?  '  I  asked. 
'  I'd  like  to  go  to  see  it.'  '  Ashby-de-la-Zouch,' 
he  answered.  '  It  takes  just  three  hours  to  run 
down.'  Of  course,  I  couldn't  go  down  into  Leices- 
tershire, and  said  so.  He  smiled  '  another  time.' 
We  exchanged  cards  again  and  his  man  called  a 
cab  for  me.  A  chauffeur  came  up  with  a  prodigi- 
ously long-bonnetted  and  low-seated  machine,  and 
Carville  followed  me  downstairs.  He  got  in  and 
waved  his  hand.  With  a  spring  the  car  leaped 
from  the  kerb — no  other  word  will  describe  the 
starting  of  that  car.  I  suppose  it  must  have  been 
at  least  a  hundred  horse  power.  In  a  flash  it  was 
round  the  corner  and  gone.  I  climbed  into  my 
cab  and  made  my  humble  way  to  Liverpool  Street, 
eventually  reaching  Wigborough,  and  taking  up  the 
daily  round  and  the  common  task. 

"  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  chap.  Bill  ? 
I  think  you  will  disapprove,  because  for  all  your 
wild -west  adventures,  San  Francisco  earthquakes, 
etc.,  you  are  a  steady-going  old  girl  and  object  to 


ALIENS  59 

such  rampaging  persons  as  this  Carville.  But  I 
have  been  thinking  that  after  all,  if  one  is  an  artist, 
everything  in  the  world  has  a  certain  '  value.'  I 
don't  quite  know  how  to  explain  what  I  really  do 
feel,  but  anyhow  men  like  Carville  appear  to  me  as 
vivid  bits  of  colour  in  the  composition  of  life.  Taken 
by  themselves  they  are  all  out  of  drawing,  and  too 
loud,  but  in  the  general  arrangement  they  fit  in 
perfectly.  They  inspire  one's  imagination  too, 
don't  you  think  ?  I  shall  never  forget  that  chap's 
black  rage,  his  blazing  eyes,  his  hooked  nose  as  he 
stood  by  the  locked  door.  I  wonder  what  the 
people  next  door  thought,  just  getting  into  bed  ! 

"  This  is  a  letter,  eh  !  Well,  I  must  dry  up,  or  I 
shall  never  get  to  bed.  If  I  see  any  more  of  my 
strange  friend  I'll  let  you  know.  Love  to  all  at 
Netley  at  usual.  When  are  you  coming  home  to 
dear  old  rainy  England  ? 

"  Yours  ever, 

"  Cecil. 

"  P.S. — If  you  could  get  me  some  of  those  jolly 
little  paper  fans  you  sent  me  from  Chinatown  last 
Christmas,  please  do. 

''  Cecil." 


CHAPTER  IV 

Miss  Fraenkel 

I  FOLDED  up  the  thin  crackling  sheets  of  paper  and 
handed  them  to  Bill,  who  took  them  without 
comment,  and  for  some  time  we  sat  rocking  in 
the  twilight,  absorbed  in  our  own  thoughts. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  for  a  moment  that  we, 
and  least  of  all  I,  an  experienced  and  professional 
author,  accepted  this  contribution  to  our  investiga- 
tions without  reserve.  A  lengthy  apprenticeship 
to  Hfe  warned  us  that  '*  things  do  not  happen  that 
way.''  But  just  for  a  few  moments  (and  this  was 
the  cause  of  our  silence)  we  revelled  in  the  delicious 
sensation  of  having  beheld  in  one  of  its  most 
incredible  gestures  the  long  arm  of  coincidence. 
Swiftly  we  sketched  out  the  story.  Eagle-faced 
adventurer — marries  his  mistress — casts  her  oS — 
leaves  her  penniless  in  New  York — she  blackmails 
him — ^he  grants  her  an  income — agent  in  New 
York  takes  charge  of  letters — yes,  it  hung  together 
— it  hung  together,  coincided  ! 

Personally  I  was  a  Httle  disappointed  after  the 
first  flush  of  excitement.  I  thought  it  a  Httle 
melodramatic  and  I  abhor  melodrama.     I  wanted 

60 


ALIENS  61 

something  finer,  something  with  a  touch  of  great 
sentiment,  something  commensurate  with  the 
beauty  and  dignity  of  the  woman's  bodily  frame, 
something  that  would  explain  and  gild  with 
delicate  interest  the  expression  of  sombre  and 
uncommunicative  melancholy  that  hung  Hke  a 
cloud  over  her  face.  I  felt  reluctant  to  delve 
further  into  a  history  that  was  footed  upon  so 
unsatisfactory  a  foundation  as  this  enigmatic 
creature  who  had  blazed  suddenly  upon  the 
painter-cousin's  vision,  a  mere  spendthrift  man 
of  pleasure,  inarticulate  save  in  his  startHngly 
decadent  behaviour.  After  all,  what  had  he  done, 
this  fine  gentleman  with  an  eagle  face  and  iron 
will  ?  Sold  a  few  automobiles  to  the  aristocracy. 
Pooh  !  In  America  he  would  pass  as  a  husthng 
business  man  with  unconventional  ideas.  In  grey, 
feudal  old  London,  no  doubt,  he  appeared  as  a 
meteoric  genius,  a  veritable  Napoleon  of  sales- 
manship, a  marvel.    But  here ! 

"  Well,"  I  said,  at  length,  ''  what  do  you  think 
of  it  ?  " 

Bill  sHpped  out  of  her  chair  and  prepared  to 
go  in  and  get  the  dinner  ready.  We  dine  at 
six. 

"  I  think,''  said  she,  "  that  there  is  nothing  in 
it.  It's  hardly  Hkely  that — ^well,  is  it  ?  "  she  asked 
vaguely. 

"  No,"  we  agreed,  "  it  isn't." 

**  Still,"  I  added,  ''it  is  a  most  interesting 
commentary  upon  our  own  Httle  problem.     It  only 


62  ALIENS 

shows  how  indefinitely  one  might  extend  the 
ramifications  of  a  trivial  tale.  Of  course  the 
children  beHeve  impHcitly  in  the  statement  that 
he  is  at  sea.  If  that  be  a  legend,  it  is  clever.  But 
then — it  is  impossible.'' 

''  It's  not  a  common  name/'  remarked  Mac, 
filhng  his  pipe. 

''  It's  a  very  easily  assumed  one,"  I  argued. 
"  It's  a  name  you  can't  argue  about.  It  might 
be  Irish,  French,  Italian,  Spanish  or  American. 
It  tells  you  nothing." 

Bill  paused  at  the  door. 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  had  anything  to  do  with 
giving  the  children  those  awful  names,"  she  sug- 
gested. 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  I  have  known  plenty  of  mothers 
who  claim  that  right,"  I  responded.  "  That  does 
not  amount  to  much.  No.  There  are  two  points 
that  seem  to  me  to  invalidate  the  claim  of  this 
gentleman  to  any  connection  with  our  neighbours, 
but  that  is  not  one  of  them." 

''  AVhat  are  they  ?  "  inquired  Mac.  Bill  opened 
the  door  and  went  in.     I  cleared  my  throat. 

"  First,"  I  said,  ''  there  is  the  entirely  fanciful 
argument  that  such  a  man  as  Cecil  has  described 
would  not  be  attracted  by  such  a  woman  as — Mrs. 
Carville.  I  can't  explain  in  so  many  words  why 
I  think  so,  but  I  do.  I  don't  believe  she  would 
attract  him.  If  you  consider  a  moment,  you  will 
see  it.  The  EngHsh  gentleman  of  good  family  and 
birth,  when  he  has  once  broken  out  of  his  own 


ALIENS  63 

social  world,  does  not  show  much  taste  and  dis- 
crimination in  the  choice  of  a  wife  or  mistress/' 

"  Well/'  said  Mac. 

"  Second,  we  have  the  incontestable  fact  that 
Benvenuto  Cellini,  though  sharing  his  illustrious 
brother's  features  and  histrionic  talent,  has  blue 
eyes  and  fair  hair.     Where  did  he  get  them  ?  '' 

"  Something  in  that,"  my  friend  admitted, 
throwing  his  match  into  the  darkness.  *'  We'll 
have  to  hunt  round  for  a  tertium  quid,  so  to 
speak." 

"  You  put  it  pithily,"  I  asserted.  "  Personally 
I  am  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  Cecil's  story, 
while  certainly  interesting  in  itself,  does  not  help 
us  at  all  with  our  own  difficulty.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  he  is  of  our  nation  and  fair  complexion. 
Really,  when  you  reflect,  it  is  unjust  to  assume 
your  tertium  quid  and  compKcate  the  story — yet. 
We  have  no  actual  evidence  of  her — obhquity." 

"  No,"  said  Mac.     "  Let's  wait." 

"We  must,"  I  replied.  ''The  children  them- 
selves will  no  doubt  provide  us  with  plenty  of  food 
for  conjecture  if  they  go  on  as  they  have  begun. 
We  are  good  friends  now,  they  and  L" 

"  You  surpassed  yourself  as  an  Indian,"  he 
laughed. 

"  Hostile,"  I  corrected.  "  Did  you  notice  the 
reahstic  way  in  which  Giuseppe  Mazzini  fell  ? " 
He  nodded. 

"  You'll  have  to  be  a  cow-boy  to-morrow,"  he 
remarked.     "  You    might    suggest    rounding    up 


64  ALIENS 

their  confounded  chickens  and  set  them  to  repairing 
that  fence." 

"  I  shall  be  a  cow-boy  with  enthusiasm,"  I  said. 
"  Under  my  breast  beats  an  adventurous  heart, 
beheve  me.  As  for  the  fence,  I  would  rather  not 
get  into  trouble  by  interfering  with  their  affairs." 

"  She  didn't  seem  any  too  friendly." 

'^  Hostile  would  describe  it  better." 

"  Still,  if  you  could  get  a  word  with  her,  it  might 
elucidate  the  mystery  ?  "  "  Yes,"  I  said,  as  the 
gong  tinkled  within. 

''  Chop,"  said  he,  and  we  went  in  to  dinner. 

We  had  reached  the  cheese  and  celery  before  Bill 
contributed  a  piece  of  news  that  impressed  us  in 
different  ways. 

"  I  'phoned  Miss  Fraenkel  this  morning,"  she 
said,  "  and  asked  her  to  come  up  after  dinner  this 
evening.  She  said  she'd  be  tickled  to  death  to  come." 

I  said  nothing  at  first,  and  Mac,  annexing  an 
unusually  large  piece  of  cheese,  grinned. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  "  suppose  we  get  Miss  Fraenkel's 
opinion  of  the  chap  with  the  hooked  nose.  She's 
American  ;   she'll  be  sure  to  have  an  opinion." 

"  No  doubt,"  I  conceded.  "  We  shall  see 
whether  we  have  not  taken  too  much  for  granted. 
There's  only  one  thing,  and  that  is,  are  we  not 
exposing  Miss  Fraenkel  to  temptation  by  exciting 
her  curiosity  yet  more  about  her  neighbour  ?  " 

"  Oh  bunk  !  "  said  Mac.  "  Women  don't  have 
to  be  led  into  that  sort  of  temptation.  They  take 
it  in  with  their  mother's  milk," 


C( 


ALIENS  65 

You  cynical  old  devil !  "  exclaimed  Bill  in- 
dignantly. 

"  Well,  it's  true,"  lie  defended  himself  stoutly. 
"  I'll  bet  you  a  quarter  Miss  Fraenkel's  already 
tried  them  and  found  them  guilty." 

"  Of  what  ?  "  demanded  Bill. 

''Oh,  ask  Miss  Fraenkel,"  said  he.  "How 
should  I  know  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  I  said  gently,  "  you  are  making  a 
mistake,  Mac.  Consider !  Miss  Fraenkel  is  no 
doubt  interested  in  her  neighbours,  like  any  other 
woman.  But  you  make  a  big  mistake  if  you 
imagine  that  ordinary  people,  people  who  are  not 
professionally  concerned  with  human  nature,  are 
accustomed  to  draw  conclusions  and  observe 
character,  as — as  we  do,  for  example.  I  have 
always  thought,"  I  went  on,  stirring  my  coffee, 
"  that  Jane  Austen  made  this  same  mistake  in 
'Emma.'  She  takes  a  small  community,  much 
like  Netley,  N.J.,  and  suggests,  by  the  conversation 
of  the  characters  that  they  are  all  as  observant  and 
as  shrewd  as  herself.  We  feel  it  was  not  so.  Nay, 
we  hnow  it  was  not  so,  for  Jane's  genius  in  that 
direction  was  almost  uncanny.  Now  there  is,  I 
am  safe  in  saying,  nothing  uncanny  about  Miss 
Fraenkel." 

"  She's  very  nice  !  "  said  Bill,  nodding  blithely 
at  me  over  her  cup. 

I  am  loth  to  give  any  colour  to  the  suspicion  that 
I  am  about  to  confuse  my  narrative  with  extrane- 
ous details ;   but  I  must  confess  that  Bill's  laconic 

E 


66  ALIENS 

benison  had  for  me  a  personal  appeal.  She  was, 
I  felt,  entirely  and  generously  right.  She  had  not 
overstepped  the  mark  at  all.  Miss  Fraenkel  was 
very  nice,  but — it  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  story. 
It  is  a  point  of  honour  with  me  to  put  Miss  Fraenkel 
in  her  place,  if  I  may  express  it  so  without  dis- 
courtesy, and  that  place  is  certainly  modest  and 
inconspicuous.  Miss  Fraenkel's  light  was  very 
clear  and  very  bright,  but  illuminated  only  a  small 
area.  She  wrote  an  admirable  paper  and  read  it 
clearly  and  impressively  at  the  Woman's  Club 
on  ''  The  Human  Touch  in  Ostrovsky."  Indeed  for 
one  who  had  read  so  little  of  Ostrovsky  it  was  a 
most  creditable  piece  of  work.  It  was  in  her 
estimate  of  the  English  character  that  she  was,  I 
venture  to  think,  less  successful,  more  narrow  in 
fact.  You  see,  she  was  naturally  confused  by 
two  facts.  In  the  first  place  the  similarity  of  the 
EngHsh  and  American  language  seemed  to  her  to 
warrant  a  certain  similitude  between  the  two 
nations ;  and  secondly,  her  intimacy  with  the 
English  people  was  practically  confined  to  us  three, 
who  had  been  in  America  nearly  seven  years,  and 
who,  in  consequence,  had  shrouded  our  more  sahent 
insularities  beneath  a  cloak  of  cosmopohtan  aplomb. 
Neither  our  speech  nor  our  outlook  upon  life  could 
be  taken  as  typical  of  our  great  and  noble -hearted 
nation.  Yet  she  did  take  us  in  that  sense,  with  the 
result  that  in  her  conception  of  the  United  Kingdom 
it  was  a  rather  fantastic  and  clumsily -fashioned 
small-scale  model  of  the  United  States. 


ALIENS  67 

We  had  first  met  her,  not  in  New  Jersey  at  all, 
but  in  New  York.  After  the  earthquake,  which  I 
have  mentioned  as  lifting  us  and  many  others  from 
more  or  less  comfortable  sockets  in  San  Francisco 
and  scattering  us  over  the  Union,  we  found  it  a 
matter  of  some  difficulty  to  rise  to  our  accustomed 
level  in  New  York.  It  really  seemed,  what  with 
the  failure  of  inspiration  and  our  lack  of  suitable 
introductions,  that  the  mighty  mill-stream  of 
Manhattan  would  bear  us  away  and  fling  us  over 
the  rocks  to  destruction  before  we  could  ever  get 
our  heads  above  the  surface. 

Of  those  first  days  in  East  118th  Street  none 
of  us  are  disposed  to  speak.  We  might  have  gone 
back  to  England — surely  so  dire  a  calamity,  so 
utter  a  personal  ruin,  justified  a  relinquishment 
of  our  purpose.  But  we  had  not  gone  anyway. 
We  could  not  contemplate  the  solicitous  sympathy 
of  friends  who  disliked  America,  who  had  protested 
against  our  emigration  in  the  first  place.  We  did  not 
dislike  America,  nor  did  we  blame  her  for  our 
misfortunes.  Our  friends,  even  the  painter-cousin, 
could  not  understand  that  we  did  not  dislike 
America.  They  were  misled  by  our  occasional  and 
quite  natural  sighs  for  a  sight  of  the  quiet  EngHsh 
landscape,  and  our  joking  remarks  about  the 
customs  regulations.  So  we  stayed  and  fought,  with 
our  backs  to  the  not  over- clean  walls  of  118th  Street. 
It  was  slow  progress  from  118th  to  18th  Street 
and  from  there  to  a  real  flat  in  Lexington  Avenue, 
where  it  so  happened  that  Miss  Fraenkel  had,  and 


68  ALIENS 

still  has,  a  married  sister.  Bill  and  tlie  married 
sister  became  warm  friends,  discovering  in  each 
other  a  common  dislike  of  pink,  and  it  was  she  who 
introduced  us  formally ;  though  in  a  casual  way 
Miss  Fraenkel  and  I  met  occasionally  on  the  stairs. 
And  so  it  came  about  that  when  we  felt  able  to  aban- 
don Lexmgton  Avenue  in  favour  of  a  purer  air 
and  water  supply,  Miss  Fraenkel  chanted  the  praises 
of  her  own  Netley  in  the  Garden  State,  and  Bill, 
journeying  hither  to  spy  out  the  land,  returned 
an  hour  late  for  dinner,  and  incoherent  with 
horticultural  details. 

It  will  be  seen  that  though  undoubtedly  com- 
petent to  criticise  Ostrovsky  or  Mrs.  Carville 
fer  se,  Miss  Fraenkel' s  opinion  of  the  painter- 
cousin's  discovery  would  be  interesting  only  for 
its  novelty  and  irrelevance.  I  did  not  express 
my  conviction  quite  as  frankly  as  this,  since 
my  friend,  though  in  sympathy  with  his  wife's 
matrimonial  plans,  could  not  forbear  to  indulge 
in  a  mild  hazing  at  my  expense.  I  contented 
myself  with  opening  the  piano  and  pushing  him 
into  the  seat.  It  is  our  custom  to  have  music 
after  dinner. 

Only  those  who  have  written  verse  professionally 
can  realise  the  extent  to  which  music  acts  as  a 
solvent  upon  apparently  insoluble  difficulties  of 
rhyme  and  sentiment.  It  had  become  a  habit  with 
me  to  leave  any  such  problem  of  prosody  to  one 
side  and  take  it  up  again  only  when  my  friend 
opened    his  piano.     Having  completed    an    opera 


ALIENS  69 

some  time  before,  I  liad  at  this  time  no  such  trouble, 
and  so,  as  he  broke  abruptly  in  that  prodigious 
composition,  the  Overture  to  Tannhauser,  I  gave 
myself  up  to  an  unfettered  consideration  of  the 
mystery  of  life  and  the  complexity  of  our  multi- 
tudinous contacts  with  one  another.  It  is  not 
enough,  I  reflected,  to  say  that  we  make  and  pass. 
We  make  and  remake,  we  pass  and,  pausing  on  the 
brink  of  oblivion,  return  to  spoil  our  first  fine  care- 
less raptures.  We  make  and  pass  ;  but  the  early 
dawn  of  our  making  is  reddened  by  the  sunset  of 
another's  decline.  We  are  agitated  by  the 
originality  of  our  ideas,  unaware  that  they  are 
born  simultaneously  in  a  thousand  minds,  and  are 
woven  into  the  texture  of  our  time- spirit  in  a 
thousand-times-repeated  design.  Von  Eoon,  in 
Chelsea,  used  to  say  that  "  a  man's  mind  was 
like  a  chamber  papered  with  used  postage  stamps. 
Examine  them  separately  and  they  were  of  no 
value ;  they  were  merely  cancelled  symbols  of 
forgotten  messages.  View  them  as  a  whole  and 
they  formed  an  interesting  and  confusing  com- 
position." Time,  and  our  proximity  to  other 
cancelled  symbols  is  no  guarantee  of  interior 
understanding.  The  Great  Decorator  has  arranged 
us  without  regard  for  our  individual  merits  or  past 
intrinsic  values,  we  are  but  points  of  colour  in  his 
immense  and  arbitrary  arrangement.  I  was  following 
up  this  thought,  when  the  brass  Canterbury  pilgrim 
that  serves  us  for  a  knocker  was  vigorously  sounded, 
and  I  sprang  to  open  the  door  to  Miss  Fraenkel. 


70  ALIENS 

She  stepped  briskly  into  the  room,  looked 
round  and  smiled. 

'^  Three  times,"  she  declared  as  I  assisted  her 
to  remove  her  jacket.  "  But  I  forgive  you  if 
you'll  only  play  that  won — derful  thing  again  !  " 

In  person  Miss  Fraenkel  was  of  middle  size, 
admirably  proportioned  and  situated  in  tone  on 
the  borderland  between  the  blonde  and  the  brunette. 
By  which  I  mean  that  her  hair  was  brown,  her  eye 
a  warm  hazel,  and  her  skin  of  a  satiny  pallor  that 
formed  an  effective  background  for  a  dehghtful 
flush  that  suffused  her  piquant  features  whenever 
her  enthusiasm  was  roused.  And  her  enthusiasm 
was  continually  being  roused.  To  us  cold  Britons 
the  abandon  with  which  she,  in  common  with  her 
countrywomen,  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment 
of  a  picture,  a  book,  a  landscape,  or  for  that  matter 
of  a  person,  was  a  most  fascinating  spectacle. 
American  women  strongly  resemble  champagne. 
At  a  certain  age  they  are  incomparably  stimulating, 
but  intimacy  with  them  involves  a  sort  of  "  head- 
iness  "  that  demands  discretion ;  a  nervous  energy 
emanates  from  them  that  tends  to  relax  the  critical 
faculty.  There  is,  moreover,  a  tendency  to  turges- 
cence  in  their  speech  that  leads  the  unwary  into 
a  false  estimate  of  their  intellectual  range. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  conversation  could 
be  guided  round  to  the  subject  which  we  three  at 
any  rate  had  at  heart.  Explosive  cries  of  dehght 
over  Mac's  last  etching,  Bill's  new  waist  and  a 
Chinese   print   I   had   recently   acquired,    were   a 


ALIENS  71 

matter  of  course.  In  deference  to  an  unuttered 
request  we  adjourned  to  the  studio  upstairs,  for 
Miss  Fraenkel  had  been  from  the  first  candidly 
attracted  by  the  suggestion  of  bohemianism  in  our 
menage.  It  was  not  her  romantic  view  of  an 
artist's  life  however,  that  distinguished  her  from 
any  other  young  and  romantic  lady,  but  her  frank- 
ness and  eloquence  in  acknowledging  it.  "  It 
must  be  grand,"  she  had  told  me  in  Lexington 
Avenue,  "to  be  a  grisettey  Yf e  had  admitted 
that  it  must,  but  had  been  unable  to  share  her 
regret  that  she  had  not  been  a  man  so  that  she 
could  see  everything ''  She  was  very  charming 
as  she  was. 

Of  course  she  knew  of  the  painter -cousin  and 
indeed,  as  soon  as  she  could  think  of  it,  gave  us  the 
needed  opening. 

"  I  saw  a  letter  with  an  English  postmark  for 
you,"  she  observed,  examining  the  bottom  of  a 
piece  of  china  that  rested  near  her  shoulder.  "  Did 
you  get  it  ?  " 

"  We  want  you  to  give  us  an  opinion  about  it. 
Miss  Fraenkel,"  said  Bill,  bringing  out  the  letter 
and  giving  it  to  her.  She  accepted  the  packet  in 
some  uncertainty. 

"  I !  "  she  said,  "  give  an  opinion  ?  I  don't  get 
it,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Read  it,"  said  Bill. 

And  she  did.  We  sat  round  her,  as  she  sat  on 
the  broad  flat  box  that  Mac  called  a  "  throne,"  in 
a  semicircle,  and  studied  the  varying  expressions 


72  ALIENS 

tliat  crossed  her  face  as  her  eyes  travelled  down 
the  pages.  It  occurred  to  me  after  I  had  retired  to 
my  room  that  night,  that  an  English  girl  of  twenty - 
one  would  not  have  weathered  the  concentrated 
gaze  of  three  strangers  with  such  serenity  of  features. 
An  observant  and  invisible  critic  might  have 
imagined  us  to  have  been  awaiting  the  decision  of 
a  young  and  charming  Sibyl,  so  intently  did  we 
gaze  and  so  neglectful  was  she  of  our  regard. 
This  apparent  coldness  was  explained  to  me  by 
Bill  as  a  characteristic  of  the  American  woman. 
"  They  like  to  be  admired,"  she  told  me.  "  And 
so  they  don't  mind  if  you  do  stare  at  them." 

Miss  Fraenkel  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  com- 
prehension. 

"  What  a  perfectly  lovely  letter  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Bill  took  the  sheets  and  thrust  them  into  the 
envelope. 

"  He  must  be  a  very  interesting  man,  don't  you 
think  ?  " 

"  Surely  !  oh  I  should  give  anything  to  see  his 
home.  You've  described  it  to  me,  so  I  know  all 
about  it.  Gainsborough  landscape,  and  red  tiles 
on  the  cottages  !  "     She  clasped  her  hands. 

"  I  mean  the  man  my  cousin  met,"  said  Bill 
gently.     "  Carville." 

"  Oh,  him  !  "  Miss  Fraenkel  looked  at  each  of 
us  for  an  instant  to  catch  some  inkling  of  our 
behaviour. 

"  Same  name  as "  and  Mac  jerked  his  thumb 

over  his  shoulder. 


ALIENS  73 

Miss  Fraenkel's  face  did  not  clear. 

"  We  thought,"  I  said  heavily,  "that  this  man 

in  England,  you  know,  might  have "    I  stopped, 

dismayed  by  her  lack  of  appreciation.  She  seemed 
unable  to  grasp  the  simple  links  of  our  brilliant 
theory.  We  had  omitted  to  calculate  upon  the 
indifference  of  the  modern  American  temperament 
to  names.  A  foul  murder  had  been  committed 
a  short  time  back  by  a  gambler  named  Fraenkel, 
yet  she  would  have  laughed  at  the  suggestion  that 
such  a  coincidence  should  cause  her  any  annoyance. 

"  I  don't  get  it,"  she  said,  smiling,  and  we  saw 
plainly  enough  that  she  did  not  get  it.  We  were 
crushed.  I  explained  in  more  detail  the  reason 
for  which  we  had  ventured  to  connect  the  two 
stories.     We  could  see  her  trying  to  understand. 

"  You  mean — like  as  if  it  was  a  photo -play," 
she  faltered. 

It  does  not  matter  now,  and  I  admit  that  this 
put  me  out  of  humour.  And  yet  it  was  true.  We 
were  really  no  nearer  an  actual  and  bona  fide 
solution  of  Mrs.  Carville's  story  than  if  we  had 
simply  tried  to  make,  as  Miss  Fraenkel  said,  a 
photo -play.  The  others  laughed  at  my  downcast 
countenance. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  you  said  Miss  Fraenkel  had 
tried  them  and  found  them  guilty,  Mac." 

"  What  I  meant  was,  Miss  Fraenkel  had  formed 
her  own  opinion  of  the  business." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  ''  1  have." 

"  Now  we  shall  hear  something,"  chirped  Bill. 


74  ALIENS 

*^  Listen,"  said  Miss  Fraenkel.  *'  It's  very 
likely  an  assumed  name." 

It  was  our  turn  to  look  bewildered. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  Bill.     "  What  then  ?  " 

"  And "  went  on  Miss  Fraenkel,  making  Httle 

motions  with  her  hands  as  though  she  were  trying 
to  catch  something  that  eluded  her  grasp.  "  And — 
oh  !  he's  being  held  for  some  game  in  New  York. 
She's  got  away  with  it,  you  see." 

Miss  Fraenkel  waited  for  this  appalHng  develop- 
ment to  sink  into  our  minds.  I  don't  think  it  was 
given  to  any  of  us  at  the  moment  to  divine  just 
what  had  happened  to  Miss  Fraenkel.  Even 
seven  years  in  the  country  were  not  sufficient 
training  in  American  psychology  to  realize  it  at 
once.  We  sat  and  looked  at  her,  temporarily 
dazed  by  what  we  took  to  be  a  story  built  upon 
exclusive  information.  And  she  sat  and  looked 
at  us,  as  pleased  as  a  child  at  the  success  of  her 
manoeuvre. 

"Why,"  stammered  Bill,  blankly  through  her 
glasses,  "  how  do  you  know  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Miss  Fraenkel.  ''I 
just  made  it  up,  same's  you."  And  she  included 
us  all  in  a  brilhant  flash  of  her  hazel  eyes. 

We  changed  the  subject  after  that.  In  self- 
defence  we  changed  the  subject,  for  it  was  plain 
that  when  it  came  to  making  photo-plays  we  held 
a  very  poor  hand.  Moreover,  we  saw  that  Miss 
Fraenkel  did  not  and  could  not  take  our  ponderous 
interest  in  Mrs.  Carville  seriously.     To  argue  that 


ALIENS  75 

she  ought  to  was  no  better  logic  than  to  say  that, 
since  she  was  crazy  about  Chinese  prints,  she  ought 
to  be  friendly  with  the  Chinese  laundry  man  in 
Chestnut  Street.  We  regarded  the  nations  of 
Europe  as  repositories  of  splendid  traditions, 
magnificent  even  in  their  decay.  Miss  Fraenkel 
regarded  them  as  rag-baskets  from  which  the 
American  Eagle  was  picking  a  heterogeneous  mass 
of  rubbish,  rubbish  that  might  possibly,  after 
much  screening,  become  worthy  of  civic  privilege. 
The  wisdom  of  our  action  was  proved  by  Miss 
Fraenkel  herself,  for  not  only  did  she  make  no 
further  mention  of  Mrs.  Carville  before  she  rose  to 
go,  but  even  when  I  remarked  (I  escorted  her  to 
her  home)  pointing  to  the  great  lantern  in  the 
MetropoHtan  Tower,  twenty  miles  away,  shining 
like  a  star  above  the  horizon,  "  that  hght  shines 
on  many  things  that  are  hidden  from  us,'*  she 
failed  to  apply  the  sententious  reflection  to  her 
own  story,  merely  looking  at  me  with  an  apprecia- 
tive smile.  She  had  forgotten  our  discussion 
utterly,  and  I  was  quite  sure  that  unless  we 
mentioned  it,  she  would  not  refer  to  it  again. 


CHAPTER  V 

He  Comes 

It  was  the  evening  of  one  of  tlie  most  perfect  days 
in  an  Indian  summer  of  notable  loveliness.  In 
this  refulgent  weather,  to  quote  Emerson,  who 
knew  well  what  he  spoke  of,  *'  it  was  a  luxury  to 
draw  the  breath  of  Hfe."  Free  equally  from  the 
enervating  heat  and  insects  of  high  summer,  and 
the  numbing  rigour  of  the  Eastern  winter,  the  days 
passed  in  dignified  procession,  calm  and  temperate, 
roseate  with  the  blazing  foliage  of  autumn,  and 
gay  with  geraniums  and  marigolds.  On  our  modest 
pergola  there  still  clung  a  few  ruby-coloured  grapes, 
though  the  leaves  were  scattered,  and  in  the  beds 
about  our  verandah  blue  cornflowers  and  yellow 
nasturtiums  enamelled  the  untidy  carpet  of  coarse 
grasses  that  were  trying  to  choke  them.  Not  far 
away,  down  by  the  Episcopal  Church,  men  were 
playing  tennis  in  flannels  on  the  courts  of  yellow, 
hard-packed  sand.  The  intense  blue  of  an  Italian 
sky  lent  a  factitious  transparency  to  the  atmos- 
phere, and  the  tiny  irregular  shadows  that  indicated 
the  colossal  architecture  of  New  York  seemed  to 
float  like  bubbles  in  an  azure  bowl.     Across  the 


ALIENS  77 

street,  a  vacant  plot  of  land,  neglected  because  of 
imperfect  title,  was  cut  diagonally  by  a  footpath 
leading  down  to  Broad  Street,  where,  out  of 
sight  but  not  of  hearing,  trolley-cars  between 
Newark  and  Paterson  thundered  at  uncertain 
intervals. 

It  was  our  custom,  as  we  sat  on  our  verandah 
during  these  afternoons,  to  watch  the  gradual 
appearance  of  familiar  figures  upon  this  path. 
We  knew  that  a  few  moments  after  the  whistle  of 
the  five- twenty  had  sounded  at  the  grade- crossing 
down  in  the  valley,  certain  neighbours  who  com- 
muted to  New  York  would  infalhbly  rise  into 
view  on  this  path.  There  was  Eckhardt,  who 
hved  at  five  hundred  and  nine,  and  spent  the  day 
on  the  fourteenth  floor  of  the  Flatiron  Building. 
There  was  WilHams,  immaculate  of  costume,  who 
designed  automobile  bodies  and  had  an  office  on 
Broadway.  There  was  Wederslen,  the  art- critic 
of  the  New  York  Daily  News,  a  man  whom  all 
three  of  us  held  in  peculiar  abhorrence  because  he 
persisted  in  ignoring  Mac's  etchings.  There  was 
Arber,  rather  short  of  stature  and  rather  long  of 
lip,  an  Irishman  who,  miraculous  to  state,  admired 
Burns.  There  was  Confield,  an  Indianian  from 
Logansport,  who  had  been  to  Europe  on  a  vacation 
tour  (No.  67  Series  C,  Inclusive  Fare  $450)  and 
invariably  carried  a  grip  plastered  with  hotel  labels 
to  prove  it.  We  had  met  these  men  at  tennis 
and  at  the  Field  Club,  and  in  our  Enghsh  way 
esteemed  them.     They  would  come  up,  head-first, 


78  ALIENS 

so  to  speak,  out  of  the  valley,  revealing  them- 
selves step  by  step  until  they  reached  the  street, 
when  they  would  acknowledge  our  salutations  by 
a  lift  of  the  hat  and  a  wave  of  the  evening  paper, 
and  pass  on  to  their  homes.  They  generally  came, 
too,  in  the  order  in  which  I  have  given  them. 
Eckhardt  was  always  first,  for  he  did  not  smoke, 
and  the  smoking-cars  on  the  Erie  Eoad  were 
generally  behind.  And  Confield,  of  course,  was 
Hkely  to  be  last,  for  he  had  his  bag. 

It  was  so  on  the  day  of  which  I  speak.  The 
deep  bay  of  the  locomotive  came  up  on  the  still 
autumn  air,  and  a  cloud  of  dazzling  white  vapour 
rose  like  a  balloon  above  the  trees  and  drifted 
slowly  into  thin  curls  and  feathers  against  the 
blue  sky.  It  was,  even  in  this  trifling  detail,  a 
homehke  landscape,  for  Bill  had  told  us  how, 
from  the  square  hall  window  of  High  AVigborough, 
you  could  see  the  white  puffs  of  invisible  trains  on 
the  lonely  Uttle  loopline  from  Wivenhoe  to  Bright- 
lingsea. 

A  few  moments,  and  one  by  one,  and  in  the  case 
of  Wederslen  and  Wilhams  arm-in-arm,  our  neigh- 
bours hove  into  view  out  of  the  valley,  saluted  and 
passed.  We  noted  the  unusually  friendly  attitude 
of  the  two.  What  was  Williams  up  to  ?  we 
wondered.  We  knew  that  WilUams,  the  ignoble 
designer  of  tonneaux,  laboured  under  the  delusion 
that  he  could  paint.  Of  course  he  could  not 
paint — ^we  were  all  agreed  upon  that — but  he  had 
shown  us  various  compositions  done  during  vacation 


ALIENS  79 

time  —  blood-red  boulders  and  glass-green  seas. 
Was  it  possible  that  he  was  convincing  Wederslen 
that  he  could  paint  ?  We  shuddered  for  Art  as 
we  thought  of  it.  Their  wives  were  not  friendly, 
though,  so  Bill  asserted.  We  placed  our  hopes 
for  Art  on  that. 

For  some  moments  after  they  were  gone,  and 
Confield  with  his  bag  had  passed  from  view  down 
the  forest  path,  we  tried  to  contemplate  with 
stoical  indifference  the  prospect  of  seeing  Williams 
hailed  by  the  servile  and  blandiloquent  Wederslen 
as  a  genius.  Had  he  not  said  of  Hooker  that  *'  he 
was  hkely,  at  no  distant  date,  to  be  seen  in  all 
the  collections  of  note  ?     His  rare  skill  with  the 

burin,  his  dehcate  feeling  for  nature -"  and  so 

on.  Of  course  we  all  esteemed  Hooker  and  were 
glad  to  see  him  make  good ;  but  really,  as  Bill 
remarked,  "  A  man  who  said  Hooker  had  a  feehng 
for  nature  would  say  anything.''  It  was  like 
speaking  of  Antony  Van  Dyck's  feehng  for  nature. 
Hooker's  Dutch  gardens  and  Italian  ornamental 
waters,  his  cypresses  like  black  spearheads,  his 
eighteenth-century  precisians  with  their  flowered 
waistcoats  and  high  insteps,  were  as  far  from  nature 
as  they  could  conveniently  get.  So  much  for 
Wederslen.  We  might  have  pursued  the  subject 
indefinitely  had  not  our  attention  been  drawn 
abruptly  to  the  path. 

He  came  uncertainly,  this  new  figure,  pausing 
when  he  was  only  half  revealed,  as  though  in  doubt 
of  his  direction.    He  wore  a  Derby  hat.  and  we 


80  ALIENS 

saw  over  his  arm  a  rubber  mackintosli.  Making 
up  an  obviously  unsettled  mind,  he  abjured  the 
path  and  struck  straight  across  towards  us,  with 
the  evident  intention  of  inquiring  the  way. 

There  are  many  conceits  by  which  men  may 
assert  their  individuahty  in  dress,  even  in  these 
days  of  stereotyped  cut.  They  may  adhere  by 
habit  or  desire  to  the  uniform  of  their  class,  they 
may  preserve  their  anonymity  even  to  a  cui!-hnk, 
yet  in  some  occult  way  we  are  apprised  of  their 
personal  fancy  ;  we  see  a  last-remaining  vestige 
of  that  high  courage  that  made  their  ancestors 
clothe  themselves  in  original  and  astonishing  vest- 
ments. And  it  is  this  fortuitous  difference,  this 
tiny  leak,  one  might  say,  of  their  personahty, 
that  stamps  them  finally  as  belonging  to  an  im- 
mense mediocrity.  It  is  this  subtle  and  micros- 
copic change,  a  sixteenth  of  an  inch  in  the  height 
of  a  collar,  a  line  in  the  pattern  of  a  scarf,  a  hair's 
breadth  in  the  disposition  of  a  crease,  that  the 
psychologists  of  the  market-place  call  distinction, 
and  labour  industriously  to  supply. 

But  the  man  who  now  crossed  the  street  and 
stood  before  us  bore  neither  in  his  apparel  nor  in 
his  Hneamente  a  single  detail  by  which  he  could 
be  remembered.  In  everything,  from  his  black 
medium-toed  boots  to  his  Derby  hat  of  untarnished 
respectability,  from  his  recently-shaven  chin  to 
his  steady  grey-blue  eyes,  he  betrayed  not  the 
slightest  caprice  which  would  enable  an  observer 
to  distinguish  him  from  a  particular  type.     It  was 


ALIENS  81 

f  as  though  he  had  been  conscious  of  all  this  and 
had  even  sought  to  avoid  the  most  trivial  peculi- 
arities. In  height,  in  feature,  in  dress,  he  was 
so  ordinary  that  he  became  extraordinary.  His 
intention  to  be  unnoticed  was  so  obvious  that  it 
predicated,  in  my  own  mind  at  least,  a  character 
and  possibly  an  occupation  out  of  the  common 
run. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  he  began  in  a  voice  that 
gave  no  hint  of  emotion,  "  can  you  tell  me  if  this 
is  Van  Diemen's  Avenue  ?  '* 

"  Yes,"  we  said  all  together,  studying  him  the 
while.     "  Yes,  this  is  Van  Diemen's  Avenue." 

"  Thanks,"  he  replied,  and  withdrew  his  foot 
from  our  bottom  step. 

It  seemed  as  though  he  was  about  to  depart  and 
leave  us  guessing,  when  he  spoke  again. 

"  Perhaps  you  know  the  house  I  want,"  he  said. 
**  Carville's  the  name.  I,"  he  added  as  if  in  an 
afterthought,  *'  am  Mr.  Carville."  And  he  looked 
at  us  gravely,  apparently  unaware  of  the  turmoil 
of  curiosity  which  he  had  aroused. 

Some  one — I  think  it  was  Mac — pointed  to  the 
next  house. 

"  That's  it,"  we  managed  to  say. 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  rested  upon  it  casually. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said  again,  and  then,  "  Much 
obHged."  He  stepped  back  to  the  sidewalk  and 
walked  along  to  the  house.  None  of  us  can  recall 
exactly  what  happened  when  he  approached  his 
door,  for  we  were  all  looking  away  across  the  valley, 


82  ALIENS 

hastily  rearranging  our  cliaotic  impressions.  It  is 
to  be  presumed  that  he  knocked  and  was  admitted. 
When  we  glanced  round  a  few  moments  later  he 
was  gone. 

"  Great  Scott !  ''  murmured  Mac,  and  looked  at 
us  in  the  growing  dusk.     Bill  rose  to  get  dinner. 

Throughout  the  meal  we  refrained  from  any 
comment.  Now  that  he  had  materiahzed,  there 
was  no  reason,  in  the  nature  of  things,  why  we 
should  bother  our  heads  any  more  about  him. 
In  the  most  natural  way  he  had  appeared  and 
innocently  demoHshed  the  photo-play  romances 
we  had  constructed  about  him.  It  was  a  warning 
to  us  to  avoid  nonsense,  in  future,  when  discussing 
our  neighbours.  Miss  Fraenkel  had  fared  no 
better.  Evidently  he  was  not  "  held  ''  for  some- 
thing with  which  his  wife  had  ''  got  away."  We 
were  all  ridiculously  wrong  and  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  ourselves.  And  so  we  were  ;  avoiding  mention 
of  him,  and  devoting  our  attention  to  the  fish,  for 
it  was  Friday,  and  we  kept  it  religiously. 

But  as  I  drank  my  coffee  and  Hstened  to  that 
exquisitely  mournful  barcarolle  from  the  Tales  of 
Hoffmann^  the  whole  episode  took  on  a  different 
aspect.  I  perceived,  as  Schopenhauer  had  per- 
ceived a  hundred  years  before  me,  that  our  first 
judgment  upon  a  man  or  principle  is  probably 
the  most  correct.  I  saw  that  I  had  been  carried 
away  by  logic  and  numbers  and  had  discounted 
my  first  impression.  From  the  angle  at  which 
I  now  regarded  Mr.   Carville   I  could  see  that, 


ALIENS  83 

after  all,  his  case  presented  certain  details  whicli 
we  could  not  as  yet  account  for.  Unfamiliar  as 
I  was  with  the  life  of  the  sea,  I  felt  instinctively 
that  men  who  had  their  business  in  great  waters 
would  bear  upon  their  persons  indications  of  their 
calHng,  some  sign  which  would  catch  one's  imagina- 
tion and  assist  one  to  visualize  their  collective 
existence.  But  Mr.  Carville  had  nothing.  I  passed 
in  mental  review  the  details  of  his  appearance,  his 
blue  serge  suit,  his  dark  green  tie,  his  greying 
moustache,  cHpped  short  in  a  fashion  that  might 
be  American,  Enghsh,  French  or  German.  His 
voice  had  been  quiet  and  deferential,  but  by  no 
means  genteel ;  nor  had  it  any  hint  of  the  royster- 
ing  joviaHty  of  a  sailor.  More  than  anything  else 
his  gait,  in  its  sedate  unobtrusiveness,  seemed  to 
me  utterly  at  variance  with  the  rolHng  swagger 
which  we  conventionally  associate  with  sea- 
men. 

Grant,  however,  I  said  to  myself,  that  he  looks  a 
truth-telHng  man.  Grant  that  he  is,  as  his  children 
said,  at  sea.  Surely  there  is  something  romantic 
in  this  quiet-eyed  man  being  married  to  such  a 
woman  as  Mrs.  Carville  !  Surely  a  man  whose 
children  bear  names  so  bright  on  the  rolls  of  fame 
must  have  something  in  him  worthy  of  admiration  ! 
As  the  barcarolle  swelled  and  died  away,  I  felt  this 
conviction  growing  within  me.  I  felt  certain  that 
so  far  from  demoHshing  the  real  mystery,  Mr. 
Carville  had  only  brought  it  into  focus.  We  had 
not   seen  it   before.    And  it  promised   to  be  a 


84  ALIENS 

mystery  on  a  higher  plane  than  the  rather  sordid 
affair  we  had  been  postulating. 

I  decided  to  sleep  on  my  conclusions,  however, 
before  broaching  the  matter  to  my  friends,  and 
having  some  work  to  finish  for  the  morning's 
mail,  I  went  back  to  my  desk.  For  three  hours  or 
so  I  worked  steadily,  page  after  page  shpping  to 
the  floor  as  I  finished  them.  My  friends  did  not 
disturb  me,  and  when  I  ascended  to  the  studio 
for  a  "  crack  ''  before  retiring,  I  found  the  big 
room  in  darkness.  So  !  I  mused  and  descended. 
A  brilhant  moon  threw  a  dense  black  shadow  in 
front  of  the  house.  The  porch  was  in  gloom,  but 
the  street  was  nearly  as  bright  as  day.  I  stood 
on  the  verandah  for  a  few  minutes,  filhng  a  pipe 
and  looking  across  at  the  Metropohtan  hght  where 
it  shone  serenely  on  the  horizon.  As  I  struck  a 
match  I  became  aware  of  a  figure  moving  slowly 
in  front  of  the  Carville  house,  up  and  down  the 
gravel  walk  that  ran  below  their  verandah.  I 
threw  away  my  match  and  stepped  down  intO/| 
the  moonhght,  intending  to  stroll  up  and  down 
for  a  while  on  the  flags  of  the  sidewalk.  I  oftei^ 
find  that  if  I  retire  immediately  from  a  burst  of 
writing  I  am  unable  to  sleep  for  several  hours. 
The  pendulum  of  the  mind  should  be  brought  to 
^rest  quietly  and  without  shock. 

I  was  not  surprised  when  the  figure  in  the 
shadow  stepped  out  into  the  moonhght  as  I  ap- 
proached. Wliat  startled  me  was  the  undoubted 
resemblance  to  myself  in  figure  and  mass.     We 


ALIENS  85 

were  both  small  men.  Perhaps  there  was  a  shade 
more  shoulder-breadth  on  his  side  than  mine,  but 
there  was  the  same  slight  droop,  the  same  neghgible 
tendency  to  stoutness.  As  I  turned  the  matter 
over  in  my  mind  we  came  face  to  face. 

"  Good  evening/'  we  said  simultaneously.  He 
waved  his  pipe,  a  corn  cob,  towards  the  east. 
"  New  York  !  ''  he  remarked,  and  we  stood  side 
by  side  for  a  moment  in  silence.  The  simple 
observation  seemed  to  me  to  imply  a  suscepti- 
bihty  to  the  sublimity  of  the  prospect  that  we  had 
not  discovered  to  any  extent  among  our  other 
neighbours.  To  them,  apparently.  New  York  was 
no  more  than  London  is  to  Hampstead  ;  they  had 
the  suburban  sentiment  in  an  acute  form.  Never- 
theless I  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  continue  our 
conversation.  It  seemed  foohsh  to  neglect  such 
a  heaven-directed  opportunity  to  meet  this  man 
on  his  own  ground  and  obtain  some  light  upon  his 
career.  How  should  I  begin  ?  Should  I  say  to 
him,  "  Look  here,  it  is  very  nice,  no  doubt ;  but 
we,  your  neighbours,  are  simply  crazy  to  know 
who  and  what  you  are  ?  ''  That  might  strike 
him  in  various  ways.  He  might  take  offence, 
and  one  could  not  blame  him.  He  might  see 
humour  in  it,  and  a  proof  of  the  contemptible 
meanness  of  human  nature.  I  decided  that  I 
lacked  courage  to  blurt  out  my  desire  that  way. 
He  was  so  very  much  like  myself  that  I  could  not 
rid  myself  of  the  notion  that  he  might  prefer  a 
milder  way  of  approach.    And  as  I  sorted  out 


86  ALIENS 

my  stock  of  diplomacy  he  spoke  of  the  matter 
himself. 

"  You  are  a  seaman,  I  miderstand  ? "  I  re- 
marked.    He  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"I  go  to  sea,"  he  replied,  "  if  that  is  what  you 
mean.  Yes,  in  the  legal  phrase  of  the  Board  of 
Trade,  I'm  a  seaman,  and  my  number  is  Three 
nine  five,  eight  nine  threes  He  laughed  shortly 
and  continued  to  look  out  towards  New  York. 

"  A  picturesque  life,"  I  hazarded,  regretting  my 
total  ignorance  of  it.  Again  he  looked  at  me 
and  laughed. 

"You  think  so?"  he  queried.  "You  think 
so?" 

"  I  speak  from  book  knowledge  only,"  I  said. 
"It  is  usually  described  in  those  terms."  We 
began  to  walk  to  and  fro. 

"  Well,"  he  admitted  unexpectedly,  "  and  so 
it  is.  I  don't  doubt  that  to  anyone  just  looking  at 
it,  you  understand,  it  is  as  you  say,  '  picturesque.' 
But  when  you  have  a  number  like  Three  nine  -five, 
eight  nine  three,  you  have  another  view  of  it." 

"  You  have  been  for  a  long  voyage  ?  " 

"Oh  no,"  he  said ;  "  Mediterranean  and  back, 
that's  all." 

I  began  to  realize  something  of  the  man  from 
this.  I  had  no  knowledge  of  the  sea,  but  I  certainly 
had  a  mind  trained  by  years  of  observation  and 
reflection  to  deduce  certain  definite  data  affecting 
human  nature.  And  I  realized  dimly  that  a  man 
who  regarded  a  run  round  the  Mediterranean  and 


ALIENS  87 

back  across  the  Atlantic  as  a  trivial  episode  scarcely 
worthy  of  mention,  might  have  views  on  literature 
and  art  radically  at  variance  with  my  own. 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  I  remarked,  "  that 
you  would  have  made  your  home  there  rather  than 
here." 

"  There's  some  who  do,"  he  said.  "  Lots  of  the 
Anchor  Line  men  do.  But  personally  I'd  rather 
be  here." 

"  It  is  very  Hke  England,"  I  agreed,  as  he  broke  in. 

"  Sure,"  he  said.  "  I  was  just  thinking  as  I 
came  up  the  hill.  I  come  from  Hertfordshire 
myself.     Very  Hke  the  Northern  Heights." 

"  We  always  think,"  I  answered,  "  that  it  is 
like  Essex." 

He  pondered  for  a  moment,  enjoying  his  pipe. 

"  Well,  it  is,"  he  decided.  "  You  mean  looking 
over  Staten  Island  to  the  sea  ?  Yes,  only  they're 
busier  here  than  along  Mersea  Flats,  eh  ?  Oh  yes, 
I  used  to  know  that  part  when  I  was  a  boy.  There 
isn't  much  between  Chipping  Barnet  and  Hamford 
Water  that  I  didn't  know  in  those  days." 

"  You  will  go  back  some  day  ?  "  I  said  as  we 
turned.  A  change  came  over  his  face,  and  he  put 
his  hand  to  his  chin. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I'll  never  go  back  there. 
I'm  here  " — he  waved  his  pipe — "  for  keeps." 

I  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Why  ?  "  I  said,  a  little  indignantly.  "  Are 
you  not  an  Enghshman  ?  " 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  reply  to  the  blunt 


88  ALIENS 

question,  but  looked  do\Yu  at  the  flags.  His  feet 
were  cased  in  red  velvet  slippers,  I  noticed,  and  tliey 
struck  me  as  quite  indescribably  bizarre  in  the 
moonlight.  His  hesitation  was  too  ominous, 
heavy  with  unimaginable  complexities.  His  voice 
was  muffled  when  he  spoke. 

"  No,"  he  said.     "  I'm— an  alien." 

At  first  I  was  impressed  by  the  tone  more  than 
the  words.  It  was  mournful,  with  a  streak  of 
satisfaction  in  his  condition  that  I  felt  was  assumed. 

"  You  mean,"  I  said  at  last,  "  that  you  mean  to 
take  out  papers  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  queerly. 

"  How  long  would  it  take,"  he  inquired  with  a 
smile,  "  to  put  in  five  years'  residence,  when  I'm 
in  the  country  about  three  days  every  two  months  ? 
No,  I  don't  think  I'll  bother  about  papers.  AVhen 
I  say  I'm  here  for  keeps,  I  mean  those  belonging 
to  me." 

"  There  is  a  question  I  would  like  to  ask  you," 
I  said  tentatively. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  answer  it  if  I  can,"  he 
repHed. 

"  It  refers  to  your  little  boys." 

"  Why,"  he  broke  in,  "  they  haven't  been 
annoying  you,  have  they  ?  I  hope  they  haven't 
done  that !  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  merely  had  a  curiosity  to  know 
why  they  bear  such  unusual  names." 

He  smiled. 

*'  They  told  you  their  names,  did  they  ?  " 


ALIENS  89 

"  They  were  good  enough,  to  commend  me  for 
the  way  I  played  Indian/'  I  explained,  and  he 
gave  me  another  of  his  quick  comprehensive 
glances. 

"  It's  rather  a  long  story  you've  asked  for,"  he 
said. 

"  I  am  interested  in  stories,"  I  put  in. 

"  Beppo  said  you  made  pictures,"  he  mused. 

"  In  words,"  I  added. 

He  paused  again.  It  seemed  to  be  a  part  of 
his  mode  of  thinking,  this  occasional  parenthesis 
of  silence.  It  was  almost  as  though  the  man 
were  leading  me  down  a  vast  and  dimly -lit  corridor, 
laying  his  hand  at  times  up  various  doors,  and  then 
withdrawing  it,  from  some  mysterious  motive,  and 
continuing  upon  his  way. 

"  An  author  ? "  he  said,  half  to  himself. 
"  Ah  !  " 

It  was  borne  in  upon  me  that  neither  a  wide 
experience  in  common  everyday  psychology,  nor 
even  an  exhaustive  knowledge  of  sea -life  could 
adequately  cope  with  the  bewildering  emotions 
implicit  in  that  "  Ah  !  "  In  its  way  it  was  the 
most  remarkable  thing  he  had  said. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  I  repHed.  "  I  am  pro- 
fessionally interested  in  stories." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  matches  and  as  the 
flame  spurted  before  his  face  I  saw  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  betrayed  a  pucker  of  amusement. 
I  suddenly  felt  the  absurdity  of  my  position. 
I  had  been  led  to  expose  myself  to  ridicule.     I 


90  ALIENS 

might  have  expected  it  after  the  behaviour  of  his 
children. 

For  a  moment  I  was  warm  ! 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  it's 
this  way.  I'm  not  a  very  good  hand  at  yarns,  but 
if  you  hke  I'll  step  along  to-morrow  some  time  and 
have  a  talk.  I  don't  go  back  to  the  ship  till  Sunday 
night." 

"  We  shall  be  charmed,"  I  said.  "  Come  in  to 
tea." 

"  All  right,"  he  answered.  "  I  will.  It  must  be 
nearly  eight  bells  I  should  think,  twelve  o'clock." 

I  pointed  to  the  Metropolitan  Light,  glowing  a 
deep  red.     He  regarded  it  with  interest. 

"  Think  o'  that !  "  he  said  absently.  "  Just 
think  o'  that.  Eight  bells  !  "  He  roused  himself. 
"  Well,  good-night  to  you,  sir.  I  must  turn  in. 
I  always  sleep  best  in  the  Middle  Watch." 

And  he  laughed  as  though  at  some  flash  of 
memory  and  made  his  way  into  the  darkened 
house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

He  Begins  His  Tale 

The  work  upon  which  1  had  been  engaged  during  the 
evening  did  not  engross  my  mind  that  night  when 
I  retired.  Over  and  over  again  I  endeavoured  to 
measure  the  distance  I  had  advanced  in  knowledge 
of  my  neighbour  since  I  stepped  out  into  the 
moonhght.  I  wished  to  reahze  the  exact  advantage 
I  would  hold  over  Mac  and  Bill  when  we  met  next 
morning  at  breakfast.  And  that  was  just  what 
I  found  myself  unable  to  do.  Both  of  my  friends 
were  shrewd  enough  to  smile  if  I  trotted  out  the 
startHng  information  that  he  came  from  Hertford- 
shire. Of  course,  they  would  say,  he  must  come 
from  somewhere.  And  if  I  remarked  he  had  been 
in  the  Mediterranean,  they  would  fail  to  see  any- 
thing amazing  in  a  sailor  having  been  in  the 
Mediterranean.  And  then,  how  was  I  to  convey 
to  them  the  extraordinary  impression  he  had  made 
upon  me  by  the  simple  statement  that  he  was  an 
aHen.  Why,  they  would  exclaim,  were  not  we 
ahens  too  ?  Were  not  fifty  per  cent,  of  our 
acquaintances  in  the  United  States  aliens  ?  No, 
it  was  impossible.       They  would  not  understand. 

91 


92  ALIENS 

And  if  they  would  not  understand  that,  how 
could  they  be  expected  to  appreciate  in  all  its 
puzzling  simplicity  his  ejaculation  :  "  An  author  ? 
Ah  !  " 

It  occurred  to  me  with  some  bitterness  that  a 
brutal  editor  in  San  Francisco  had  once  com- 
plained of  my  inabihty  to  interview  people  with 
any  success.  "  God  A' mighty  !  Why  the  h — 1 
didn't  you  ash,  man !  "  And  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  am  not  designed  by  nature  for  the  cut-throat 
business  of  interviewing.  To  stand  before  a 
stranger,  note-book  in  hand,  and  pry  into  his 
personal  record,  always  seems  to  me  only  a  form 
of  infamy  midway  between  blackmail  and  burglary. 
There  is  to  me  something  in  any  man's  personality 
that  is  sacred,  something  before  which  there 
should  be  a  veil,  never  to  be  drawn  aside  save  in 
secret  places.  An  effete  whim,  no  doubt.  At  any 
rate  it  explained  why  I  had  enjoyed  no  success  as 
an  interviewer,  why  I  had  come  away  from  Mr. 
Carville  without  extracting  from  him  his  age,  his 
income,  his  position,  the  names  of  his  employers, 
his  ship,  his  tailor  or  his  God.  Nothing  of  all  this 
I  knew,  so  ineptly  had  I  managed  my  chances  to 
obtain  it.  And  yet  I  felt  that,  even  if  I  did  not 
possess  any  concrete  morsel  of  exciting  news,  I 
had  discovered  not  only  that  he  had  a  story,  but 
that  he  was  willing  to  tell  it.  And  as  I  fell  asleep 
a  conviction  to  me  that  whatever  his  story  might 
be,  however  sordid  or  romantic,  I  would  pass  no 
judgment  upon  it  until  I  perceived  in  its  genuine 


ALIENS  93 

significance,    the    chapter   that   lay   behind    that 
strange  utterance,  "  An  author  ?     Ah  !  " 


The  next  morning  I  slept  late,  until  past  seven 
in  fact.  It  had  ever  been  an  axiom  with  us  that 
the  indolence  attributed  to  the  "  artistic  tempera- 
ment "  was  a  fooHsh  tradition.  Creative  power 
undoubtedly  comes  late  in  the  day  and  in  the 
still  night-watches ;  often  I  had  planned  a  whole 
book  while  in  bed;  but  there  are  many  things 
to  do  in  hterature  and  art  besides  creation — 
research,  reading,  preparing  of  palettes,  writing  of 
letters  and  so  on,  that  can  be  better  done  early. 
So  we  breakfasted  at  half  after  seven  as  a  rule.  I 
managed  to  bathe  and  shave  before  Mac's  reveille 
sounded  on  the  piano. 

As  I  opened  my  napkin  I  saw  that  Bill  had 
something  of  importance  to  impart,  and  it  came  out 
at  once. 

''  He's  mending  the  fence ! "  she  exclaimed, 
passing  the  toast. 

"  And  going  about  it  as  though  he  knew  what 
he  was  doing,"  added  Mac. 

I  was  glad  of  this  discovery  of  theirs.  It  would 
enable  me  to  introduce  my  own  contribution 
modestly,  yet  with  effect. 

"  I  wonder,"  I  said,  "  if  he  would  approve  of 
that  tree  being  cut  down."  Mac  stirred  in  his 
chair.     The   daily    spectacle    of   those   two    little 


94  ALIENS 

boys  hacking  slivers  from  the  prostrate  tree  had 
been  very  trying  to  him. 

"  I  judge  not,"  he  said  with  energy.  "  A  man 
who " 

"  I  wish  we  knew  the  exact  relations  between 
them,"  I  interrupted.  "  I  mean,  whether  they 
quarrel  at  all." 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  said  Bill  without  thinking. 
"  All  married  people  do — at  times." 

Her  husband  looked  down  his  nose  into  his  egg. 
I  smiled. 

"  True,  since  you  say  it,"  I  repHed,  "  but  you 
must  remember  that  just  as  no  two  people  look 
exactly  alike,  so  no  two  couples  live  on  exactly  the 
same  terms.     Just  as " 

"  Oh,  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  said  Bill. 
"  Trust  a  bachelor  to  lay  down  the  law." 

"  Those  who  look  on — you  know,"  I  protested. 

"  That  isn't  true  in  regard  to  marriage,"  she 
retorted,  "  because  unless  you  are  married  you 
don't  look  on  at  all,  see  ?  " 

I  saw. 

"  I  am  going  to  speak  to  him  after  breakfast," 
announced  Mac.  "  He  seems  a  very  decent  sort 
of  chap.     I  wonder  what  he  is  at  sea." 

"  I  had  quite  a  little  chat  with  him  last  night," 
I  began. 

"  You  did  !  "  they  exclaimed.  I  nodded,  en- 
joying their  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  I  found  you  were  gone  to  bed 
when  I  finished,  and  so  I  went  out  on  the  flags  for 


ALIENS  95 

a  short  walk.     He  was  out  there  doing  the  same 
thing." 

"  Go  on  !  "  said  Bill. 

"  He  didn't  say  anything  about  mending  the 
fence,"  I  remarked. 

"  Oh  goodness  !     Tell  us  what  he  did  say,"  she 
implored. 
j       "  Well,  not  much.    He  comes  from  Hertfordshire, 
England." 

"  He's  EngHsh  then  !  I  thought  so,"  said  Mac, 
relieved. 

"  He  said  No,"  I  answered.      "  That   was    one 
of  the  most  curious  reniarks  he  made.     He  said 
.  he  was  an  alien." 

\  "  Did  he,  by  Jove  !  So  he  is  ;  but  it's  a  very 
strange  thing  to  say,"  said  Mac.  Bill  regarded 
me  with  interest. 

"  He's  going  to  keep  us  guessing,"  she  remarked 
dolefully. 

"  No,"  I  said,  taking  another  piece  of  toast. 
"  He  accepted  my  invitation  to  tea  this  afternoon, 
and  he  is  going  to  tell  us  about  himself." 

After  all  I  had  overlooked  my  most  telling  item. 
I  might  have  known  that  the  fact  of  his  visit  would 
prove  more  thrilHng  than  any  gossip  coming 
second-hand  from  me.  They  wished  to  speak 
with  him  again,  this  man  who  had  come  upon  us 
so  quietly  yet  so  dramatically.  We  had  all  become 
sufficiently  American  to  desire  "  a  good  look  at 
him."  And  when  Americans  take  a  good  look  at 
you  they  go  over  you  with  a  fine  tooth  comb. 


96  ALIENS 

They  see  everything,  from  a  knot  in  your 
bootlace  to  the  gold -filling  in  your  teeth.  My 
friends  "sat  up  "  as  I  made  my  announcement. 
I  felt,  that  in  editorial  parlance,  I  had  made  a 
scoop. 

"  Bully  !  "  said  Mac,  and  Bill,  her  chin  on  her 
hand,  looked  across  at  me  with  approval.  After 
all,  again,  my  lack  of  enterprise  in  interrogating 
Mr.  Carville  the  night  before  was  bearing  fruit.  It 
was  crediting  me  with  a  sportsmanlike  reluctance 
to  steal  a  march  on  my  friends.  I  had,  after  all, 
unconsciously  done  what  we  English  call  "  the 
right  thing."  I  had  invited  him  to  tea.  Suddenly 
Bill's  eyes  became  glassy. 

"  Are  they  both  coming  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  stifled 
voice. 

"I— I  don't  think  so,"  I  faltered.  '^  I  can't 
say  exactly  why,  but  I  don't  think  so.  You  see," 
I  went  on,  ''  the  reason  he  offered  to  tell  me  about 
himself  was  a  question  of  mine  about  his  children. 
I  said  their  names  were  curious  enough  to  strike 
anyone.  He  said  it  was  a  long  story.  And  he 
offered  to  step  over  himself.  Now,"  I  felt  more 
certain  of  myself  now,  "  the  story  of  his  children's 
names  may  take  two  directions.  If  he  named  them 
he  will  not  want  his  wife  to  hear  him  tell  about  it. 
If  she  named  them,  which  is  not  likely,  why,  he 
would  scarcely  take  the  trouble  to  come  over  and 
tell  strangers  about  it,  would  he  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Bill. 

"  So  am  I,"  I  agreed.     "  I  think  it  is  best  to 


ALIENS  97 

get  acquainted  with  families  on  the  instalment 
plan,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Eather  !  "  said  Bill,  and  held  out  her  hand 
for  my  cup. 

It  was  a  perfect  morning,  clear  and  crisp,  and 
the  long  sunUt  vista  of  Van  Diemen's  Avenue 
tempted  us  sorely.  We  went  through  our  daily 
struggle.  Those  people  who  work  by  rote,  who 
are  herded  in  offices  and  factories,  and  who  are 
compelled  by  the  laws  of  their  industries  to  remain 
at  their  posts  whether  the  sun  shines  or  not,  often 
regard  the  lives  of  free  lances  hke  us  as  merely 
agreeable  holidays  ;  they  would  certainly  be  some- 
what staggered  to  find  the  enormous  will-power 
involved  in  resisting  the  calls  of  the  open  road. 
There  are  so  many  subtle  arguments  in  favour  of 
abandoning  the  desk  for  just  once.  "It  is  such  a 
glorious  day,  it  is  a  shame  to  be  indoors,"  "  one's 
head  is  muggy ;  a  good  walk  will  clear  the  ideas," 
or  "  it  doesn't  do  to  stick  at  it  too  long  you  know : 
give  it  a  rest."  (This  when  you  have  not  written 
a  line  for  a  week  !)  And  so  on.  We  knew  them 
all,  these  specious  lures  to  idleness,  and  strangled 
them  with  a  firm  hand  each  morning  after  breakfast. 
Well  we  knew  that  on  a  dark  dismal  rainy  day 
we  would  hear  the  Tempter  saying,  "  who  could 
work  on  a  day  like  this  ?  Leave  it  until  the  sun 
shines  in  the  window.  Try  that  interesting  novel 
you  brought  home.  After  all,  you  know,  you 
must  read  to  see  how  the  accepted  masters  do  it. 
Bead  for  technique  ,  ,  . " 

G 


98  ALIENS 

By  nine  o'clock  we  would  all  be  at  work. 

So  it  was  on  this  bright  morning  in  October.  I 
remember  being  rather  struck  with  the  excellence 
of  the  work  of  the  preceding  evening.  It  was  not 
great  work,  you  may  say,  not  by  any  means  in 
the  category  of  immortal  classics.  It  was  not 
even  signed,  being  an  appreciation  of  a  certain 
proprietary  article  in  common  use  and  extensively 
advertised.  There  was  to  me  a  quite  indescribable 
humour  in  the  fact  that  this  essay  in  admiration 
was  eventually  pubhshed  in  French,  German, 
Swedish  and  Polish,  running  into  a  six-figure  issue, 
while  my  last  novel,  a  sincere  piece  of  literature, 
hung  fire,  so  to  speak,  and  never  got  beyond  the 
publisher's  prehminary  forecast  of  a  thousand 
copies.  Was  I  not  angry  ?  Far  from  it.  I  was 
no  puling  undergraduate  with  a  thin  broad- 
margined  book  of  verse  to  sell.  The  pubHc  was  at 
perfect  hberty  to  buy  what  it  pleased.  If  they 
wanted  my  work,  the  work  I  loved  and  toiled  to 
make  as  perfect  as  possible,  they  would  get  it,  all 
in  good  time.  For  the  present  I  was  content  to 
wait  and  do  the  thing  which  could  be  translated 
into  Swedish  and  Polish,  into  dollars  cash.  It  is 
customary,  I  know,  to  rail  at  the  American  public, 
to  accuse  them  of  a  material  mania.  An  artist 
is  better  employed,  in  my  humble  view,  in  trying 
to  understand  them,  for  believe  me,  they  are  not 
so  vile  as  the  precious  literateurs  and  others  would 
have  us  believe.  Bitterness  is  no  preparation  for 
sympathetic  study.     And  without  sympathy  our 


ALIENS  99 

works,  however  clever  and  lovely,  are  but  Dead 
Sea  apples,  crumbling  to  ashes  at  the  touch  of  a 
human  finger. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  we  had  arrived  at 
this  way  of  thinking  by  a  sudden  leap.  Again, 
far  from  it !  My  friend  and  I  had  been  under- 
graduates, and  very  proud  of  ourselves  into  the 
bargain,  long  ago  in  England.  But  we  had  travelled 
since  then,  in  more  senses  than  one.  We  had 
known  comfort  and  we  had  known  the  mute 
impressive  numbness  of  despair.  We  had  made 
"  scoops "  at  times  and  celebrated  them  with 
joyous  junketings.  Once  we  had  dined  at  Del- 
monico's,  a  meal  of  which  the  memory  is  still  an 
absurd  chaos.  We  had,  moreover,  confronted 
America  with  a  blank  wall  of  unyielding  British 
prejudice.  We  had  entrenched  ourselves  behind 
our  conception  of  the  thing  to  do  and  stupidly 
refused  to  do  anything  else.  And  we  had  been 
beaten  to  our  knees.  For  it  meant  eventually 
either  submission  or  flight.  And  we  never  had 
any  intention  of  flight.  We  had  fixed  it  firmly  in 
our  minds  that  we  would  return  triumphant  to 
England,  some  day  as  yet  far  off.  We  were  ahens, 
yes  ;  but  we  meant  to  win  through  at  last,  to  make 
our  dream  come  true  ;  our  dream  of  a  cottage,  with 
honeysuckle  and  roses,  "  far  from  the  madding 
crowd." 

And  so  we  reahsed  at  length  that,  after  all,  the 
country  was  there  before  us ;  that  they  had  not 
asked  us  to  come  ;  that  we  might  as  well  do  things 


100  ALIENS 

the  way  they  wanted.  All  this  was  sound  physic 
for  us.  It  made  us,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word, 
cosmopoHtan,  made  us  broad  in  culture  and 
stimulated  that  deep  human  sympathy  and  under- 
standing which  lay  at  the  root  of  that  impatience 
with  which  we  awaited  the  story  of  our  neigh- 
bour. 

I  was  typing  a  letter  about  three  o'clock  when 
I  heard  Mac's  quick  step  on  the  stairs  and  the 
opening  of  the  door.  It  is  his  custom  to  take 
advantage  of  his  view  of  the  path  from  the  studio 
window  to  forestall  the  postman,  and  I  took  no 
further  notice  until  I  heard  the  hum  of  conversation. 
And  so  I  was  the  last  to  appear. 

He  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  our  room,  his 
back  to  me,  his  Derby  hat  in  his  hand,  looking 
curiously  about  the  walls.  I  saw  his  glance  held 
for  a  moment  by  the  old  EngUsh  clock  with  its 
swinging  pendulum  and  weights.  It  passed  on 
to  the  chimney-piece  loaded  with  antique  silver, 
bizarre  brasses,  candle- snuffers  and  snuff-boxes. 
It  moved  over  to  the  bust  of  Bill  that  Von  Roon  had 
given  her  when  she  was  married,  a  miracle  of 
cunningly- arranged  shadows.  It  fell  away  from 
water  colour  and  etching  without  hint  of  ulterior 
interest,  and  came  to  rest  upon  the  book-shelves. 
There  was  more  than  politeness  in  his  glance  at  the 
books,  more  than  mere  curiosity.  There  was, 
plainly  enough,  connoisseurship.  In  the  flicker  of  an 
eyelid  you  can  tell  it.  He  turned  to  meet  me  as 
I  entered  the  room, 


ALIEl^S  101 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  I  said,  shaking  hands. 
His  clasp  was  firm,  almost  athletic.  "  We  tea  at 
four,  but  I  don't  think  I  told  you  that." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  you  didn't.  I  always  have  tea 
at  three  and  it  didn't  occur  to  me  that  the  custom 
might  be  different." 

"  Don't  apologize,"'  said  Bill.  ''  It  only  takes 
a  minute  to  make.     Do  you  like  it  strong  ?  '' 

He  smiled. 

"  It's  the  only  way  I  get  it,  at  sea,"  he  said. 
**  Strong  !     Boiled  would  be  a  better  word  for  it." 

''  We  like  it  strong,"  said  Mac.  "  Sit  down 
please.     Here,  I'll  take  your  hat." 

He  sank  back  in  a  chair  and  looked  about  him. 
For  the  first  time  we  saw  him  without  a  hat.  A 
wide  head,  full  over  the  temples,  and  with  thinning 
hair  on  the  brow,  it  was  in  no  wise  unusual.  The 
head  of  a  professional  man,  shall  I  say  ?  His 
hands  lay  palm  downward  on  the  arms  of  the  chair, 
the  knuckles  white,  the  broad  flat  nails  imperfectly 
manicured. 

"  You've  got  a  snug  little  place  here,"  he  remarked. 
"  A  very  snug  little  place.  It's  very  old  fashioned. 
I  got  quite  a  start  when  I  stepped  into — ^into  the 
room  from  the  street.  Like  the  cottages  in  England. 
Art  curtains,  too  !  " 

The  tea  came  in  then^  and  Bill  offered  him  a  cup. 
I  think  I  was  a  Httle  disappointed  in  his  remarks. 
They  were  Uke  his  first  imj)ression  on  me  the 
day  before,  so  commonplace,  so  laboriously  undis- 
tinguished that  again  the  conviction  was  forced 


102  ALIENS 

upon  me  that  it  was  a  pose.  Had  I  expected  too 
much  ?  Was  he  merely  a  self -satisfied  egoist, 
clever  enough  to  perceive  our  interest  and  impose 
upon  it.  Bill  endeavoured  to  clear  the  air.  The 
mention  of  ''  art  shades ''  always  made  Mac 
restive. 

*'  Do  you  like  pictures  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  gave  her  one  of  his  quick  glances. 

"  Some,"  he  repHed.  '*  I  believe,  if  Td  been 
taught,  that  I  could  have  done  something  in  that 
Hne,''  and  he  pointed  with  his  saucer  towards  a 
water-colour,  a  drawing  of  the  Golden  Gate  from 
Eussian  Hill. 

I  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  this  new  develop- 
ment. I  really  did  not  beheve  he  had  looked  at  it. 
Moreover  the  drawing  was  not  clamant  with  noisy 
daubs  to  attract  the  attention.  It  was  not  even 
recognizable  as  a  view  of  the  Golden  Gate.  It  was 
a  study  of  colour-combination,  in  an  unusually 
high  key,  of  interest  to  artists,  but  not  to  the  public. 
Only  the  cognoscenti  had  remarked  that  picture 
before. 

''  You  Hke  it  ?  ''  I  said,  taking  it  down  and 
handing  it  to  him. 

"  Ah  !  ''  he  said,  setting  his  cup  and  saucer  on 
the  floor.  "  Yes,  that's  it,  that's  it.''  He  studied 
it.  "  That's  what  I  should  have  liked  to  tackle. 
Sugar-plums,  eh  ?  " 

We  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  he 
assumed  an  attitude  of  apology. 

''  I  beg  pardon,"  he  said.     ''  What  I  meant  was 


ALIENS  103 

it  reminded  me  of  old  Turner,  you  know,  messing 
about  with  coloured  sugar-plums/' 

*'  A  colour-scheme  ?  ''  said  Mac,  light  dawning 
in  his  puzzled  face. 

''  That's  it,  that's  the  word  :  colour-scheme,'' 
said  Mr.  Carville.  ''  I'd  forgotten  the  word." 
And  he  handed  the  drawing  back.  ''  You 
wonder  at  a  seafaring  man  coming  out  here  to 
live  ?  " 

"  It's  a  very  healthy  district,"  I  suggested. 

"  Mrs.  Carville  don't  like  New  York,  that's  all," 
he  said  simply.  "  Personally,  I  shouldn't  have 
bothered.     But  she's  quite  right." 

"  I  should  think  it  was  better  for  the  children 
too,"  said  Bill. 

He  nodded  vigorously,  packing  the  tobacco  into 
his  pipe. 

**  Fresh  air,"  said  Mac,  who  slept  out  on  the  porch 
half  the  year. 

'*  Oh  there's  plenty  of  fresh  air  in  Atlantic 
Avenue,"  he  said.  ''  I  had  something  else  in 
mind."  He  looked  thoughtful,  and  then  his  face 
lighted  up  with  an  extremely  vivid  indignation. 
It  died  away  again  in  a  moment,  but  it  trans- 
figured him.     ''  Automobiles,"  he  added. 

We  nodded,  understanding  him  perfectly.  We 
had  seen  them,  in  New  York  as  in  Brooklyn, 
careering  at  maniacal  speed  among  the  children  at 
play.  Bill,  who  loved  children  almost  as  much  as 
flowers,  had  come  in  one  day  in  Lexington  Avenue, 
white  and  sick,  and  told  us  brokenly  of  something 


104  ALIENS 

she  had  seen.  So  we  nodded  and  he,  seeing  that 
we  understood,  said  no  more. 

"  Have  you  lived  here  long  ?  ''  I  inquired. 

"  Both  the  kids  were  born  here,''  he  rephed. 
"  Yes  that's  nearly  eight  years  since  we  came. 
You  see — but  it's  a  long  story.  I  don't  know 
whether  you'd  be  interested " 

Bill  rose. 

"  Let  us  go  outside,"  she  said.  ''  It's  beautifully 
warm." 

We  went  out. 

"  You  must  take  the  Fourth  Chair,"  said  Bill, 
looking  at  us. 

We  explained  to  him  the  legend  of  the  Fourth 
Chair. 

"  You  see,"  I  added,  "  we  were  expecting  you. 
There  is  fate  in  this." 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  quietly  looking  across 
the  valley,  as  though  pondering  something. 

"  I  think  I  might  as  well  begin  at  the  beginning/' 
he  said  at  last,  *'  and  work  up  to  the  kids'  names 
gradually.  Though  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  could  tell 
you  in  two  words  the  reasons  for  giving  them  such 
un-EngUsh  names,  it  wouldn't  explain  how  I  feel. 
And  that  I  take  it  is  what  you  are  after  ?  " 

''  Begin  at  the  beginning,"  I  said. 

"  So  I  will.  I  told  you  I  was  born  at  sea.  My 
father  was  a  merchant  skipper  of  Boston.  I  don't 
remember  him  very  well,  for  he  died  when  I  was 
seven,  but  I  have  a  vague  sort  of  an  idea  that 
he  was  a  big  man  with  big  dark  eyes  and  a  great 


!  ALIENS  105 

nose  like  the  beak  of  a  bird.  He  had  run  away  to 
sea  when — well,  Napoleon  was  Emperor  of  the 
-French  when  he  ran  away  to  sea.  Sailors  had 
pigtails  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  His  brothers  did  the 
same.  At  one  time,  in  the  'sixties,  there  were 
six  skippers  ploughing  the  ocean,  all  Carvilles,  all 
big  black -whiskered  men.  You  may  hear  of  them 
yet  in  the  ports  out  East. 

"  My  father  married  four  times.  There  was  one 
peculiarity,  or  fatality  if  you  like,  about  the 
Carvilles,  and  that  was  their  failure  to  beget  sons. 
Daughters  came  right  along  all  the  time.  I  have 
fourteen  cousins,  all  married,  and  all  got  boys  ! 
The  first  three  wives  my  father  had  only  produced 
two  daughters,  who  died  before  their  mothers.  You 
can  understand  that  those  six  big  men  took  it 
badly  there  were  no  sons.  When  the  third  wife 
died,  childless,  my  father  had  given  up  the  sea  for  a 
while  and  had  invested  in  a  ship -yard  at  St.  John, 
New  Brunswick.  It  was  there  that  he  met  my 
mother. 

"  I  can't  go  into  details  I  never  knew,  so  all  I  can 
say  is  that  my  mother  was  French  Canadian. 
They  had  a  big  farm  away  up  the  Petitcodiac  River 
and  the  girls  used  to  come  down  to  St.  John  to 
finish  an  education  that  began  in  Moncton  and 
really  ended^  in  my  mother's  case,  in  London, 
England. 

"  They  built  ships  in  those  days  in  St.  John,  and 
some  of  the  best  were  my  father's  work.  As  I  said, 
I  don't  remember  him  very  well,   but  you  will 


106  ALIENS 

understand  how  I  felt  when  one  day,  about  nine 
years  ago,  we  put  into  a  little  Spanish  port  for  coal, 
and  they  made  us  fast  to  an  old  wooden  hulk  in  the 
harbour.  As  we  came  round  her  stem  I  was  leaning 
over  the  side  and  I  saw  the  brass  letters  still  on 
her  square  counter,  Eastern  Star,  St.  John,  New 
Brunswick,  That  was  one  of  my  father's  finest 
models.  Pitch  pine  he  made  her  of,  and  she's 
beautiful  yet,  for  all  her  disgrace.  I  climbed  aboard 
of  her  while  the  Corcubion  women  were  trotting  to 
and  fro  with  the  coal  baskets,  and  looked  round 
the  poop.  There  was  the  cuddy  as  good  as  ever, 
teak  frames,  maple  panels,  pine  flooring.  That 
old  hulk  brought  my  old  father  before  me  as  no 
daguerreotype  could  do.  There  was  his  name  cut 
on  the  beam,  John  Carville.  It  may  seem  absurd 
to  you  people,  but  do  you  know,  I  realized  then,  as 
I  looked  up  and  saw  my  father's  name  on  that 
beam,  nearly  smothered  with  countless  coats  of 
varnish,  I  realized  how  a  young  man  of  family  feels, 
a  Cecil,  say,  a  Talbot  or  a  Churchill,  when  he  sees 
his  ancestors'  names  in  the  history  books.  My 
father  had  done  something,  he  was  something. 
I  don't  know  anyone  who  can  better  that  title  :  a 
builder  of  ships. 

"  And  my  father  did  more  than  that,  he  sailed 
them  and  owned  them.  So  far  he  had  been  under 
the  Union  flag,  but  this  time,  when  he  married  my 
mother,  and  his  finest  masterpiece,  the  Erin's  Isle, 
was  anchored  in  St.  John  Harbour  ready  for  sea, 
the  Red  Ensign  was  flying  at  the  gaff." 


ALIENS  107 

"  Did  your  mother  go  too  ?  "  asked  Bill. 

"  Surely  !  you  think  that  strange  ?  Well  it  was 
that  or  a  Hfe  away  at  the  back  of  everything  ; 
Hfe  on  a  farm,  with  a  visit  once  a  year  to  St.  John. 
You  like  the  country,  don't  you  ?  Yes,  but  if 
you'd  been  down  in  the  back -woods,  if  you'd  lived 
in  the  thrifty  way  French  Canadians  have  picked 
up  from  the  Nova  Scotians,  and  improved,  if  you 
were  young  and  wanted  to  see  something,  you'd 
risk  your  soul  to  get  away  from  it.  You  think 
a  woman  would  have  an  awful  life  at  sea.  My 
mother  jumped  at  it.  She  married  a  man  who 
was  saiHng  as  skipper  before  she  was  born,  and 
jumped  at  it !  Taking  everything  into  con- 
sideration, I  don't  blame  her.  You  see,  she  had 
ambition,  my  mother  had.  Her  education  had 
been  good  enough,  and  she  wanted  to  find  a  sphere 
where  she  could  use  it." 

''  And  so  she  went  to  sea  ?  "  said  Bill  in  gentle 
sarcasm.  Bill's  aversion  to  the  sea  amounts  almost 
to  malevolence.     She  is  a  bad  sailor. 

"  For  the  time  being,  and  to  see  the  world," 
said  Mr.  Carville.  "  She  had  seen  nothing,  re- 
member. Well,  she  saw  it.  They  were  away  five 
years.  You  can  imagine  my  father's  feelings  when 
the  first  child  was  a  girl.  She  was  born  off  the 
Ladrone  Islands  in  the  Pacific  on  the  way  to  Hong 
Kong.  I  suppose  he  got  over  the  disappointment 
somehow,  for  I  never  heard  my  mother  say  any- 
thing about  quarrels  except  on  the  subject  of  living 
ashore.     I  told  you  my  mother  had  ambitions. 


108  ALIENS 

She  wanted  to  live  in  England  and  have  an  estab- 
lishment. But  my  father  couldn't  see  the  use.  If 
she  wanted  to  Hve  ashore,  he  argued,  why  couldn't 
she  hve  in  Hong  Kong  or  Bombay  or  Colombo  until 
he  was  ready  to  retire  ?  She  would  see  him  just 
as  often.  No,  she  had  no  intention  of  doing  that. 
She  saw  exactly  how  much  ice  a  skipper's  wife 
cut  in  a  community  of  skippers'  wives.  She  was 
after  higher  game.  She  settled  it  finally  that  if  she 
couldn't  Hve  in  London,  England,  she'd  stay  aboard 
the  ship  all  her  life. 

"  She  got  her  way,  but  not  all  at  once.  One  voyage 
she  left  the  ship  in  Bombay  and  travelled  across 
India,  rejoining  at  Calcutta.  Then  she  Hved  in 
Antwerp  a  good  while,  but  got  sick  of  it  and 
shipped  again  when  the  ship  sailed  for  Callao. 
That  was  the  last  of  her  voyages,  my  mother's  I 
mean.  For  all  I  know  the  Erin's  Isle  swims  yet. 
My  sister  was  drowned  and  I  was  born  before  she 
dropped  her  anchor  in  London  River." 

*'  Drowned  !  "    said  Bill ;    "  a  little  baby  ?  " 
"  Going   ashore   in   Callao,"    said   Mr.    Carville, 
turning  to  her,  "  there  was  a  '  roller '  started.     I 
beheve  it's  caused  by  the  sea-bed  shifting ;    shght 
earthquake  in  fact.     The  roller  was  a  big  wave 
and  struck  the  ship's  boat  as  they  were  rowing 
across   the   harbour.     Accidents   will   happen,    no 
matter  how  careful  you  are." 
"  Yes,"  we  said  quietly,  "  they  will." 
"  They  went  from  Callao  to  Brisbane  and  loaded 
again  in  Melbourne  for  home.     My  mother  used  to 


ALIENS  109 

Stay  she  thought  they  would  never  get  round  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.  My  father  had  done  the 
voyage  once  in  sixty -two  days,  almost  a  record  ; 
but  this  time  everything  went  dead  wrong.  They 
were  driven  as  far  as  the  Crozets,  somewhere  down 
near  the  South  Pole,  I  believe.  The  grub  gave  out, 
and  even  my  mother  had  to  eat  bread  from  corn 
that  was  ground  in  the  coffee  mill.  The  crew  got 
restless  and  sulky.  I've  often  tried  to  imagine  it, 
the  Skipper  and  his  two  mates,  talking  it  over  in 
the  cuddy,  keeping  the  men  working  to  stop  their 
thinking,  running  for  days  under  reefed  courses 
and  double  reefed  topsails.  And  all  the  time  with 
something  else  on  his  mind,  something  that  material- 
ized finally,  into  me  ! 

"  My  mother  told  me  that  my  father  nearly  went 
crazy  with  joy  when  I  was  born  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing, 18  south,  21  west,  at  seven  bells  on  the  star- 
board watch.  They  were  in  the  trade  then,  spank- 
ing along  almost  due  north  for  Fernando  Noronha. 
It  was  rum  for  all  hands  that  morning,  almost  the 
only  soft  thing  left  on  the  ship,  and  a  Httle  tea. 
The  tea  came  in  handy  for  their  pipes,  my  mother 
told  me.  Poor  chaps  !  They  were  dying  for  a 
smoke.  Well,  I  have  always  got  a  good  deal  of 
satisfaction  from  knowing  everybody  was  glad  I 
came  into  the  world.  My  father  was  dancing  mad 
to  get  home  and  tell  all  the  folks  that  the  curse 
was  lifted.  He  promised  my  mother  anything  ;  a 
home  in  London  was  one  thing.  He  said  he  would 
quit  the  sea,  for  another.      And  he  kept  his  word 


no  ALIENS 

too.  He  was  going  on  fifty-five,  and  had  been  at 
sea  for  thirty-eight  years.  Think  of  that !  I've 
been  at  it  for  fifteen  years  now,  and  it  seems  an 
infernally  long  time.     Thirty- eight  years  ! 

"  So  they  settled  in  London,  England.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  people  can  see  it  plainly,  but  if 
you  think  a  little  you  will  realize  how  strange 
those  two  felt  in  London,  with  their  Saratoga 
trunks,  their  sea  habits  and  their  American  preju- 
dices.    Can  you  ?  " 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as  we  sat  there, 
our  chairs  twisted  a  little  so  that  we  could  see  his 
face.  The  question  was  a  shrewd  one.  I  remember 
wondering  if  he  was  aware  how  vividly  it  brought 
back  to  our  minds  our  first  few  weeks  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, our  mistakes,  our  petulant  anger  with  strange 
habits,  our  feeling  of  awful  homesickness.  Again 
we  nodded  silently. 

"  For  a  time  they  were  up  against  it,  you  may  say," 
he  went  on,  "  and  they  didn't  dare  to  move  away 
from  their  lodgings  in  the  East  India  Dock  Road. 
It  was  natural  for  my  father  to  think  he  ought  to 
live  near  the  ships.  The  custom  of  living  in  the 
suburbs,  commuting  as  they  call  it  here,  hadn't 
begun  in  the  seventies.  It  was  my  mother  who 
fired  his  ambition  to  five  further  out.  It  would 
have  been  all  right  and  everything  might  have  been 
different  if  his  ambition  hadn't  been  fired  in  another 
direction  at  the  same  time. 

"  My  father  had  done  well  on  the  whole.  He 
had  saved  for  years  and  kept  his  money  in  banks  or 


ALIENS  111 

in  ships,  which  he  understood.  But  now,  when  the 
Erin's  Isle  was  sold  and  he  found  himself  worth 
about  fifty  thousand  dollars,  he  began  to  invest  in 
all  sorts  of  queer  ventures.  He  wanted  to  double 
his  fortune  before  he  died.  Others  had  done  it, 
men  he  met  in  Leadenhall  Street  and  on  the 
Baltic  ;  why  shouldn't  he  ?  You  see,  he  had  got 
hold  of  the  masculine  part  of  my  mother's  ambition 
all  right.  She  wanted  to  have  an  establishment, 
like  a  lady ;  he  wanted  to  found  a  family  in  Eng- 
land. The  money  he  was  to  make  was  for  me.  I 
was,  he  had  settled,  to  be  an  engineer.  He  saw,  that 
with  steel  coming  in,  engineering  was  to  be  the 
great  gold-mine  of  the  future.  So  he  would  provide 
the  capital  by  which  I  was  to  build  up  a  huge 
fortune.  The  Carvilles  were  to  be  big  people, 
understand ;  '  my  son  was  to  be  Prime  Minister 
some  day.'     Humph  !  " 

There  was  no  bitterness  in  the  exclamation,  only 
a  veiled  irony,  a  detached  amusement,  at  this 
memory  of  a  dead  ambition.  We  did  not  inter- 
rupt. 

"  They  moved  out  just  a  Httle  way,  to  Mildmay 
Park.  You  must  remember  that  my  father  had  no 
friends  outside  of  business  friends,  and  he  had  no 
idea  that  he  would  gain  anything  by  moving  west. 
My  mother  disliked  what  she  saw  of  Kensington 
and  Bayswater,  and  they  thought  in  their  sim- 
plicity that  places  with  names  like  Mildmay  Park, 
Finsbury  Park  and  finally  Oakleigh  Park,  were 
good  enough  to  begin  on.     Each  move  was  a  little 


112  ALIENS 

further  out,  a  little  bigger  house  and  a  little  higher 
rent  until  at  Oakleigh  Park,  when  I  was  six  years  old, 
it  was  a  big  semi-detached  villa,  with  a  garden  and 
tennis-lawn  and  professional  people  for  neighbours. 
That  year  my  brother  was  born  and  my  father 
began  to  die. 

"  You  will  laugh,  I  suppose,  at  the  folly  of  it, 
but  in  her  own  way,  my  mother  was  setting  up  to 
be  a  fine  lady.  We  had  a  cook  and  housemaid, 
and  a  nurse  for  me,  and  fine  things  I  learned  from 
her  !  We  had  a  hired  landau  on  Saturday  after- 
noon to  go  drives  in,  a  pew  in  the  church,  and 
sometimes  people  to  dinner.  She  even  got  my 
father  to  send  to  Dublin  to  find  out  the  Carville 
ancestry  and  coat-of-arms.  She  did,  that's  a  fact ! 
So  you  see,  she  understood  perfectly  what  was 
meant  in  England  by  keeping  up  a  position. 
As  I  said,  if  my  father  had  not  got  a  sort  of  mania 
for  turning  his  money  over,  the  scheme  might  have 
gone  through. 

''  He  began  to  die  when  I  was  not  quite  six,  and 
he  went  on  dying  and  at  the  same  time  investing 
money  until  I  was  nearly  eight.  Imagine  it !  A 
great  big  man,  as  irritable  as  a  child,  slowly  rotting 
away  inside  with  cancer  and  two  helpless  Httle 
children,  one  a  baby.  All  the  time  it  was  doctor 
after  doctor,  each  one  recommending  a  different 
cure  ;  all  the  time  it  was  investment  after  invest- 
ment, the  estate  getting  more  and  more  entangled. 
He  went  to  Baden  one  autumn  and  came  home 
worse.     He  tried  Harrogate  in  the  spring,  but  it 


ALIENS  113 

was  no  use.  He  came  back,  went  to  bed  and  never 
rose  from  it.  Mind  you,  all  the  time  the  cancer 
was  eating  his  body,  this  other  cancer  was  at  his 
mind.  He  plunged  into  the  craziest  schemes  for 
getting  twenty  per  cent,  interest.  Nothing  my 
mother  could  say  was  able  to  make  him  see  the 
madness  of  it.  She  wanted  him  to  buy  land,  but  he 
said  no  one  but  a  fool  would  buy  land  unless  they 
had  a  fortune  to  keep  it  up.  At  last,  one  January, 
it  was  over  and  done  with.  He  died,  and  we  had 
a  grand  funeral,  and  the  real  business  of  Hfe  began 
for  us. 

"  For  me  it  took  a  shape  that  I  never  got  used  to 
for  all  the  years  I  was  kept  at  it — school.  For  the 
life  of  me  I  can't  see  what  use  it  was  to  me  or  to 
anyone  else.  What  does  a  child  learn  at  school 
that's  of  any  use  to  him  ?  You'll  think  I  am 
talking  hke  an  ignorant  fool,  I  dare  say,  but  hear 
me  out.  Between  eight  and  seventeen  I  went  to 
six  different  schools.  The  country  in  those  days 
was  spotted  with  them.  Some  were  called  colleges, 
some  academies,  one  was  called  an  '  Ecole  '  of 
something  or  another.  Each  one  I  went  to  had  a 
different  badge,  a  different  coloured  tassel,  a 
different  set  of  rules  and  subjects.  Barring  the 
last  one,  which  was  down  in  Essex,  near  Maldon, 
they  were  simply  swindles.  A  mile  from  our  house 
was  a  board-school,  but  it  would  not  have  been 
keeping  up  our  position  to  send  me  there.  I 
learned  to  read  and  write,  but  Great  God  1  curiosity 
will  make  a  child  do  that.     If  he  isn't  curious  to 


114  ALIENS 

learn  what's  the  use  of  him  learning  ?  He  just 
forgets  it,  as  I  forgot  it,  as  you  did  too  very  hkely, 
forgot  it  and  learned  it  again  when  you  needed  to. 
A  child  ought  to  be  outdoors  learning  the  names 
of  flowers  and  trees  and  birds.  I  know  what  Tm 
talking  about,  mind  !  You  may  fancy  that  if  a 
boy  is  going  into  the  professions  as  I  was  to  go,  as 
I  did  go,  he  ought  to  be  schooled.  Well,  when  I 
entered  my  profession  at  seventeen,  I  had  to  begin 
at  the  bottom  for  all  my  schooHng.  I  know  as 
much  of  '  professions  '  as  most  men,  and  I  say  of 
schools,  I  have  no  faith  in  them.  The  men  who 
teach  them  know  nothing.  They're  frauds  and 
they  know  it.  All  that  these  schools  did  for  me 
was  to  teach  me  the  importance  of  keeping  up  a 
position. 

"  While  I  was  at  school,  my  mother  was  having 
the  time  of  her  hfe  with  the  estate.  My  father 
had  left  things  in  a  condition  that  promised  to 
swallow  up  the  assets  before  she  could  understand 
how  much  she  was  worth.  I  have  a  hst  somewhere 
of  the  companies  he  had  invested  in.  It's  a  very 
amusing  hst.  I  remember  some  of  them.  There 
was  the  Great  Eastern  Railway,  the  Queensland 
National  Bank,  a  ginger-beer  factory,  a  canned 
fruit  factory,  a  dry-dock  in  Rotherhithe,  and  a 
patent  nail-less  horse-shoe  concern.  His  mind 
was  gone  or  he  would  never  have  touched  some  of 
them.  Even  the  railway  paid  nothing.  They  had 
spent  a  milhon  sterhng  on  a  new  local  hne,  and  for 
four  years  had  paid  half-a-crown  per  cent.    As 


ALIENS  115 

soon  as  my  mother  sold  out,  of  course.,  they  began 
to  rise. 

"  Somehow  or  other,  she  did  eventually  get  them 
straight.  When  the  stocks  were  sold  out  and  the 
gold  bricks  thrown  over  the  side,  she  found  there 
was  about  forty  thousand  dollars,  say,  left.  That 
isn't  much  to  bring  up  a  future  Prime  Minister  on, 
and  besides,  there  was  my  brother.  He  took  more 
after  my  father  than  I  did.  I  was  mother's  boy, 
but  he  was  a  dark  daring  httle  devil  without  much 
respect  for  either  of  us.  I  don't  know  quite  how  it 
began,  but  between  us  there  grew  a  feehng  that 
can't  be  called  brotherly  love.  Perhaps  he  realised 
that,  according  to  my  mother's  ideas  of  founding  a 
family,  I  was  to  be  first  and  he  was  to  be — ^nowhere. 
As  it  happened  this  was  not  just.  He  was  clever 
from  the  very  first.  I  was  to  be  an  engineer,  and 
he  was  to  do — ^well,  anything  that  came  along.  But 
he  had  the  talent  for  engineering ;  I  hadn't.  I 
liked  it,  same  as  any  boy  does,  but  while  I  couldn't 
do  a  simple  division  sum  without  making  a  mess  of 
it,  he  could  do  it  in  his  head,  and  standing  on  his 
head  for  that  matter.  Whatever  he  tried,  that  he 
could  do,  whereas  my  range  has  always  been  quiet 
and  limited.  I  liked  reading.  He  never  seemed 
to  be  in  the  house  long  enough  to  read  any- 
thing, but  he  knew  more  than  I  did.  He  does 
now." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "   I  asked.     He  laughed. 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  say.  I'll  get  to  that 
presently.      What  I  want  you  to  understand  is  the 


116  ALIENS 

feeling  we  brothers  had  for  each  other.  He  didn't 
detest  me,  you  know.  He  didn't  take  the  trouble 
to  do  that.  He  simply  laughed  at  me.  He  made 
friends  with  board-school  boys  and  even  errand- 
boys.  One  day  my  mother  saw  him  out  in  the 
baker's  cart  driving  it  round  the  neighbourhood. 
It  was  a  sore  humiliation  for  her,  I'm  afraid.  He 
didn't  care.  There  were  girls,  too,  even  when  he 
was  only  ten  or  eleven.     Humph  ! 

"  All  this  time  I  was  growing  up  in  this  sort  of 
life,  the  life  of  the  professional  classes.  When  I 
left  school,  at  seventeen,  neither  my  mother  nor  I 
had  much  idea  of  the  way  a  young  gentleman 
became  an  engineer.  She  had  no  relatives  in  Eng- 
land, my  father's  brothers  were  either  at  sea  or 
dead,  and  my  father's  business  friends  dropped 
away  when  he  died,  a  way  business  friends  have, 
I've  noticed  since.  We  were  ahens  still  as  far  as 
real  friends  went.  And  then  one  day  we  saw  an 
interview  in  a  paper  called  the  Young  Pilgrim, 
one  of  those  mushy  papers  for  young  people  that 
do  a  lot  of  harm,  in  my  opinion.  It  was  an  inter- 
view with  Sir  Gregory  Gotch,  the  great  engineer. 
My  mother,  who  had  a  good  deal  of  practical  enter- 
prise, decided  to  write  to  him  and  ask  him.  I've 
often  wondered  what  he  thought  of  that  letter. 
It  ran  something  like  this :  Mrs.  Carville  f  resents 
her  compliments  to  Sir  Gregory  Gotch,  and  would  be 
obliged  to  him  if  he  would  inform  her  of  the  best  way 
to  article  her  son  {aged  seventeen)  to  the  engineering 
profession   in   a   manner   suitable   to   his   position. 


ALIENS  117 

Something  like  that.  You  can  understand  from 
that  that  my  mother  had  grasped  the  principle  of 
gentility  all  right.  It  went  down,  too,  for  in  a  few 
days  we  had  an  answer,  in  which  the  great  man 
gave  the  names  of  three  or  four  firms  in  London 
that  he  recommended  as  reliable  and  old-estab- 
lished. We  selected  one,  and  apparently  Sir 
Gregory's  name  was  an  open  sesame  there,  for  we 
had  an  invitation  to  go  into  the  city  and  see  them 
at  once. 

"  We  went,  the  gentlemanly  youth  and  his  lady- 
like mother,  and  saw  the  heads  of  the  firm.  We 
discovered  then,  that  there  were  two  ways  of  learn- 
ing engineering,  an  easy  way  and  a  hard  way. 
People  say  there's  no  royal  road  to  learning.  Like 
most  proverbs,  it's  a  lie.  There's  always  a  royal 
road,  if  you  happen  to  be  king  of  enough  money. 
I  might  be  an  ordinary  apprentice  or  a  special 
pupil.  If  I  was  apprenticed  I  should  have  to  start 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  work  just  Hke 
the  men.  I  would  stay  in  one  shop  for  seven  years 
and  be  turned  out  an  expert  mechanic.  And  I 
would  have  to  wait  six  months  for  an  opening,  as 
they  were  full -up.  If  I  came  as  a  pupil,  however, 
I  would  be  allowed  to  spend  so  much  time  in  each 
shop,  including  the  ofl&ces  ;  I  could  start  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  finish  the  whole  business 
in  three  years.  The  premium  was  nine  hundred 
dollars,  and  I  could  start  that  minute.  They 
didn't  seem  to  care  how  soon  they  got  that  nine 
hundred  dollars. 


118  ALIENS 

"  We  talked  it  over  in  the  train.  Of  course,  I  was 
all  for  the  royal  road  and  had  plenty  of  good  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  it*  What  I  want  you  to  notice 
is  that  my  mother  was  in  favour  of  it,  too  !  Think 
of  it.  She  had  been  brought  up  in  a  hard  school. 
She  knew  what  it  was  to  live  sparingly  and  how 
useful  early  disciphne  was.  She  had  told  me  often 
that  all  great  men  had  a  hard  struggle.  Therefore, 
how  could  I  be  a  great  man  if  I  didn't  have  a  hard 
struggle  ?  And  yet  she  was  so  obsessed  with  this 
notion  of  gentility  that  she  dehberately  gave  me  a 
soft  time.  She  paid  out  three  hundred  dollars 
every  year  for  three  years  .  .  . 

"  That  time  was  what  you  might  call  a  comedy 
of  errors.  I  am  not  going  to  admit  that  I  idled, 
for  it  is  not  true.  I  was  ambitious.  Since  I  was 
to  be  an  engineer  I  went  at  it  bald-headed.  I  went 
to  polytechnics  and  night-schools,  I  spent  whole 
nights  in  study,  and  did  everything  that  any  young 
chap  could  do.  The  whole  of  my  efforts  did  not 
amount  to  a  row  of  rivets.  W^hy  ?  I  was  up 
against  the  gentihty  again.  I  met  the  professional 
classes  face  to  face. 

"  There  were  three  other  chaps  there  as  pupils, 
and  it  so  happened  that  they  were  every  one  from 
the  great  pubhc  schools.  One  was  from  Haileybury, 
one  from  Eton,  and  another  from  Winchester. 
When  they  found  I  was  not  one  of  them  they  ragged 
me,  of  course,  which  was  good  and  proper  I  often 
think  the  ragging  in  pubhc  schools  is  one  of  the 
few  useful  things  they  do  there.     When  these  men 


ALIENS  119 

found  I  intended  to  study  my  profession  they 
thought  I  was  stark  mad.  They  were  all  nice 
young  fellows  and  had  money  coming  to  them. 
Why  should  they  bother  ?  They  thought  I  ought 
to  look  at  it  in  the  same  light.  Eventually  I  did. 
It  was  three  to  one.  I  found  out  that  any  amount 
of  study  and  genuine  merit  would  not  carry  me 
along  in  a  profession.  It  was  all  well  enough  to 
be  an  engineer ;  but  the  main  thing  was  to  be  a 
gentleman.  Gradually  I  dropped  the  study,  took 
afternoons  of!  to  go  down  west  and  began  to  worry 
my  mother  for  more  money. 

"So  it  went  on  for  the  three  years,  my  mother 
patiently  waiting  for  me  to  get  through  my  time 
and  start  in  earnest  as  a  professional  man.  My 
brother  was  at  school,  the  one  near  Maldon,  and 
was  giving  her  a  lot  of  trouble.  I  only  saw  him 
during  the  vacations.  He  was  a  big  fellow,  while 
as  you  see,  I'm  rather  on  the  small  side.  I  don't 
know  that  that  should  cause  anybody  any  amuse- 
ment !  But  because  I  was  twenty  and  he  was 
thirteen  and  nearly  as  tall  as  I  was,  he  was  for  ever 
laughing.  It  seemed  to  him  a  huge  joke.  And 
as  I  thought  about  it  the  idea  came  to  me  that  even 
nature  was  on  his  side  and  against  me.  It  almost 
seemed  as  though  she'd  not  only  given  him  the 
brains,  but  the  stature  to  be  the  great  man  my 
father  and  mother  longed  for.  He  was  good-looking 
too,  I  remember,  even  then.  My  mother  had  to 
pack  of!  a  servant  that  vacation,  a  silly  gigghng 
little  girl. 


120  ALIENS 

"  I  couldn't  very  well  say  anything  to  him, 
because  1  was  getting  into  hot  water  myself  for 
spending  money.  And  when  he  wrote  in  mid- 
term for  an  extra  sovereign,  my  mother  blamed 
me  for  setting  him  a  bad  example.  Lord !  I 
didn't  have  a  sovereign  a  year  when  I  was  thirteen. 
Times  had  changed. 

"  I  had  been  drifting  along  for  some  time, 
expecting  when  my  time  was  up  to  be  put  on  the 
staff,  as  was  usual  with  pupils.  They  usually 
gave  us  a  job  until  we  could  use  our  influence  to 
get  an  appointment  somewhere.  But  in  my  case 
it  didn't  happen  so.  The  day  my  three  years' 
term  was  up,  a  beautiful  spring  day,  the  junior 
partner  informed  me  that  I  could  consider  myself 
finished,  and  handed  me  a  reference  that,  for  all  the 
use  it  was,  might  have  gone  into  the  waste-paper 
basket  then  and  there. 

"  I  was  staggered.  I  had  no  idea  of  how  to  get 
a  job.  Why  had  I  been  pushed  out  ?  Simply 
because  the  firm  had  found  out  I  had  no  influence 
with  Sir  Gregory  Gotch,  no  standing  socially  at 
all.  I  was  an  alien  in  their  ranks.  I  went  out  of 
that  oflGice  with  all  the  externals  of  a  gentleman 
and  a  public-school  boy,  but  inwardly  an  outsider 
as  you  may  say.  One  thing  I  had  though,  and  that 
was  the  firm  conviction  that  '  pull '  and  not  merit 
counted.  I  had  to  get  some  one  to  '  influence  '  a 
job  in  my  favour.  It  would  not  have  been  gentle- 
manly to  answer  an  advertisement ! 

"  My  mother  thought  at  once  of  one  of  my  uncles, 


ALIENS  121 

who  had  retired  from  the  sea  and  was  now  a  marine 
superintendent  in  Fenchurch  Street.  I  called  to 
see  him ;  but  he  was  abroad  attending  to  a  damaged 
ship.  I  think  it  was  a  month  before  I  happened 
to  meet  the  Winchester  boy  who  had  been  in  the 
works  with  me.  Quite  by  accident  it  was.  Let 
me  see  now " 

Mr.  Carville  paused  again,  and  leaning  over  to  one 
of  the  geranium  tubs  knocked  his  pipe  out.  Sud- 
denly he  laughed. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  I'm  telling  you  the  whole 
story." 

"  That's  what  we  want  you  to  do,"  I  said,  and 
the  others  nodded. 

"  The  trouble  is,  you  know,"  went  on  Mr.  Car- 
ville, "  one  thing  leads  to  another.  You  can't 
understand  what  I  am  without  knowing  how  my 
brother  and  I  came  to  be  so — antagonistic.  And  to 
explain  that  it's  necessary  to  show  you  howl  grew 
up  in  this  professional,  easy-going,  snobby  atmo- 
sphere and  took  it  all  in,  while  he,  my  brother,  cut 
out  his  own  course  and  went  his  own  way  in  defiance 
of  everything.  I  remember  now !  I  saw  that 
Winchester  chap — his  father  was  a  wine-merchant 
and  Master  of  the  Tinkers'  Company — at  Lord's. 
I  had  nothing  to  do,  and  instead  of  hunting  round 
to  get  a  job,  I  went  to  Lord's  to  see  the  cricket. 
There  was  old  Belvoir  clumping  away  at  the  nets. 
Engineering !  Pooh !  He  had  eight  hundred  a 
year  his  aunt  left  him — catch  him  practising  as 
an  engineer.       He   was  going  on  a  tour   of  all 


122  ALIENS 

the  Mediterranean  watering-places  mth  an  M.C.C. 
team.  Well,  we  had  lunch  in  the  pavilion,  and  I 
mentioned  in  a  jolly  sort  of  way  that  I'd  been 
jounced  out  of  the  office.  He  said  it  was  '  a  bally 
shame.'  Oh,  I  did  envy  that  chap  his  eight  hun- 
dred a  year !  Life  seemed  to  him  one  long  sweet 
song.  Cricket,  Riviera,  dances,  clubs,  country 
houses,  everything.  He  was  fenced  in  on  every 
side,  safe  from  the  vulgarity  of  the  world.  He 
was  hall-marked — a  public- school  man.  He  was  a 
citizen  of  his  world,  I  was  an  ahen.  He  was  rich. 
I  had  not  even  a  savings-bank  book. 

"  I  was  going  away  after  the  match  when  I  dis- 
covered he  had  been  thinking  about  me.  That  was 
Belvoir  all  over.  He  was  a  gentleman,  and  a  gentle- 
man to  my  mind  is  hke  an  artist  in  one  thing  only, 
he  is  born — and  then  made.  That  was  Belvoir. 
He  had  privileges  as  an  EngHsh  gentleman,  but 
he  had  also  duties.  We  had  been  together  in  the 
shop  as  pupils  ;  that  gave  me  a  claim  on  him.  He 
said  he  had  an  uncle  in  Yorkshire  who  was  chairman 
of  an  engineering  firm,  and  he  would  write  to  him. 
More  than  that,  he  did  write  and  I  got  an  appoint- 
ment in  their  London  office  in  Victoria  Street. 
Good  old  Belvoir  !  Remember  Spion  Kop  ?  That 
was  the  last  of  Belvoir.  Lord's,  Riviera,  clubs — 
Spion  Kop  .  .  . 

"  I  settled  down  into  that  berth  in  Victoria 
Street  as  a  cat  settles  into  a  cushion.  I  was  warm, 
comfortable,  well-paid,  well-dressed  and  had  all 
I  wanted  in  reason.     I  lived  at  home  and  commuted 


ALIENS  123 

to  the  city  every  day,  travelling  first  class,  living 
first  class.  I  settled  down.  I  was  on  the  way  bo 
what  my  mother  and  father  had  in  view,  a  com- 
fortable position. 

"  My  brother  was  at  school,  of  course,  down  near 
Maldon.  I  never  really  got  hold  of  my  mother's 
private  opinion  of  her  second  son.  It  was  a 
mystery  to  me  why  she  gave  him  so  much  pocket- 
money.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  afterwards  that 
since  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  give  me  a  good 
start  and  put  by  all  she  could  for  my  capital  in 
business,  there  would  be  very  Httle  later  on  for 
my  brother,  so  she  was  giving  him  tips  now  instead. 
She  was  able  to  say, '  I  never  stinted  you  at  school, 
Francis.'  It  might  have  been  better  for  him  if 
she  had.  And  yet,  I  don't  know.  IVe  come  to 
think  that  men  hke  my  brother  go  their  own  road 
anyhow.  Their  hereditary  nature  is  so  strong 
that  environment  makes  no  difference,  you  might 
say. 

"  The  main  difference  between  us,  when  I  was 
twenty-two  and  he  was  fifteen,  was  the  subject  of 
women.  That  sounds  strange,  I  suppose.  But  go 
back.  What  did  you  know  about  women  at 
fifteen  ?  Or  about  yourself  ?  My  brother  knew 
no  more,  but  he  acted  on  the  Httle  he  did  know,  we 
were  afraid.  Especially  we  who  grow  up  in  such  a 
social  hfe  as  I  have  been  talking  of  ;  we  are  afraid. 
My  brother  was  never  afraid  of  anything.  If  he 
wants  a  thing  he  makes  one  bound  and  grabs  it. 
If  he  hates  a  thing  he  makes  another  bound  and 


124  ALIENS 

hits  it.  IVe  seen  a  man  flincli  just  because  my 
brother  looked  at  him.  As  for  women,  humph  ! 
He  had  only  to  hold  up  his  hand. 

"  Now  I  don't  offer  it  as  a  proof  of  virtue,  but  at 
twenty-one  I  had  not  bothered  with  girls  much. 
I  will  explain  in  a  minute  why  this  was  the  case. 
For  the  same  reason  I  did  not  smoke  or  play  cards. 
Let  me  get  back  to  my  brother.  v 

**  One  mid-term  my  mother  got  a  letter  from  the  | 
head-master  saying  he  regretted  that  he  had  been  v 
under  the  painful  necessity  of  expelling  Francis 
Carville  from  the  school.     He  had  been  caught  ] 
-flagrante  delicto^  as  the  old  chap  said,  and  one  of 
the  maids  had  been  dismissed.     You  can  imagine 
how   a   thing  like  that  upset  my  mother.     Old 
Dominion  morahty  was  pretty  strict  I  have  read, 
and  in  any  case  when  these  things  happen  in  your 
own  family  it  is  very  different  from  reading  about 
them  in  the  Press.     But  what  raised  our  worry 
still  higher  was  the  curious  fact  that  although  he 
had  been  expelled  and  put  on  the  London  train  at 
Maldon,  he  hadn't  turned  up.'' 

There  was  another  pause  as  Mr.  Carville  struck  a 
match.  It  was  nearly  dark  and  we  watched  his 
face  reflecting  the  glow.  Suddenly  Bill  realised 
the  time  and  rose. 

"  Won't  you  stay  to  dinner  ?  "   she  asked. 

*'  No  thank  you,"  he  said.  ''  Mrs.  Carville 's 
going  into  Newark  this  evening,  I  beheve,  and 
we're  going  to  take  the  boys  to  a  show."  He  rose. 
"  I  must  be  going.     Good-night." 


ALIENS  125 

''  Come     in    and     finish     your     story/'     said 

Mac. 

''  All  right.     Good-night  and  thank  you.''    He 
lifted  his  hat  and  stepped  of!  the  porch. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DiAPORESIS 

The  discussion  at  dinner  that  evening  was  unex- 
pectedly animated.  We  all  had  our  theories  to 
propound,  our  notes  to  compare  and  our  criticisms 
to  offer.  To  this  I  contributed  my  share,  but 
reserved  a  conclusion  to  which  I  had  been  approach- 
ing all  through  the  tale.  I  wished  to  submit  it  to 
the  tests  of  coffee  and  music,  to  become  more 
famihar  with  it  before  I  exposed  it  to  BilFs  shrewd 
scrutiny  and  Mac's  sardonic  judgment. 

To  my  surprise  they  insisted  upon  the  strange- 
ness of  the  story. 

"  To  my  mind,""  I  said,  "  the  story  can  scarcely 
be  called  strange,  so  far.'' 

"  I  wonder  where  his  brother  got  to  after  he  was 
expelled,"  said  Bill. 

"  Do  you  think  Cecil's  man  is  the  brother  ?  " 
asked  Mac. 

"  You  mean  interesting,"  I  continued. 

*'  Well,"  said  Mac,  ''  interesting  if  you  like. 
That  don't  make  it  any  the  less  strange.  Is  Cecil's 
man ?  " 

"  The  really  strange  part  of  this  man's   story," 

126 


ALIENS  127 

I  declared  oracularly,  "  is  the  fact  that  he  is  telling 
it ;  mark  that !  And  a  stranger  thing  still  is  the 
way  he  is  telKng  it !  " 

"  Ex  cathedra  !  ""  said  Mac,  grinning  and  bowing 
to  me. 

"  Explain  it  all  over  again,''  said  Bill. 

I  did  so,  but  they  saw  no  brilhance  in  my  explana- 
tion. They  were  artistic,  but  not  artistic  enough 
to  appreciate  the  nuance  of  the  story-telhng  art. 
Perhaps  this  is  nothing  against  them.  Each  to  his 
trade.    And  yet — sugar-plums  ! 

It  pleased  my  friend  that  evening  to  undertake 
the  rendering  of  a  work  which,  unfortunately,  can 
only  be  butchered  on  a  piano.  Of  all  Wagner's 
music  the  Walhuren  Ride  is  least  adapted  to  our 
homely  instrument.  Nevertheless  the  wild  clatter, 
the  exciting  crepitation  of  the  treble,  the  thun- 
derous booming  of  the  bass,  and  above  all  the 
tremendous  crash  with  which  it  ends,  always 
stimulates  me  to  fresh  mental  effort.  I  saw 
plainly,  as  I  Hstened,  that  my  surmise  was  correct. 
I  saw  that  I  had  no  need  to  wait  for  the  explana- 
tion of  the  phrase  :  "  An  author  ?  Ah  !  "  I  saw, 
in  short,  that  Mr.  Carville,  whatever  he  might  be  in 
the  eyes  of  his  wife,  his  brother,  or  of  the  world,  was 
a  potential  artist.  As  I  recapitulated  to  myseK 
the  various  points  in  his  tale,  the  careful  balancing 
of  his  narrative  with  sententious  criticism  of  hfe, 
the  occasional  fiction,  to  give  verisimihtude  to 
trivial  events  (the  incident  of  Belvoir  for 
example),  and  particularly  his  abrupt  departure  in 


128  ALIENS 

the  dusk,  leaving  us  guessing,  I  felt  certain  that 
for  me  his  tale  would  have  a  denouement  of  peculiar 
interest.  Already  I  perceived  the  dehberate  attempt 
of  the  man  to  convey  the  obscure  and  rare  emotion 
which  dominated  his  intellectual  hfe. 

Afterwards,  in  the  studio,  I  suggested  that  the 
story  of  Turner's  sugar-plums  might  throw  some 
light  upon  Mr.  Car\^lle's  story. 

"  How  ?  ''  said  Mac,  who  is  reluctant  to  see  pro- 
fane hands  touch  the  master-colourist's  memory. 
I  explained  again. 

"  He  is  taking  a  lot  of  romantic  episodes,  mixing 
them  up,  adding  a  Httle  imaginary  landscape  and 
offering  it  to  us/'  I  said.  ''  We  asked  for  a  story. 
We  shall  have  it,  says  he.'' 

*'  He's  such  an  ordinary  looking  chap,"  began 
Mac.     Bill  laughed. 

"  So  am  I,"  I  retorted  with  a  grin. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  protested.  "  I 
meant  ordinary  in  voice  and  general  tone.  But  if 
what  you  say  is  true  he  must  be  a  damn  clever  chap." 

"  An  artist,"  I  agreed. 

"  I  can't  make  him  out,"  said  Bill,  sewing  busily. 
"  ^Vhat  in  the  world  has  all  this  to  do  with  his 
children  ?     /  want  to  know  where  they  met." 

"  So  you  will,  dear  lady,  never  fear,"  I  said 
smiHng.  "  I  think  Mr.  Car\^lle  understands  your 
desire  perfectly." 

"  Oh,  I  know  I'm  a  very  simple  person "  she 

began. 

**  By  no  means,"  I  cried.     "  Mr.  Carville  would 


ALIENS  129 

never  suggest  such  a  thing.  But  think  for  a 
moment !  Is  it  not  a  fair  guess  that  a  man  hke  our 
neighbour,  who  has  had  such  a  varied  career,  who 
can  divine  my  interest  in  him  as  an  author,  and 
Mac's  as  an  artist,  will  be  able  to  fathom  the  reason 
why  you  watch  him  with  a  tense  and  silent  stare/' 

"  Did  I  stare  ?  "  she  said.     "  Fm  sorry.'' 

''  We  all  stared,"  I  returned.      "  Anyone  would." 

The  telephone  rang  and  Mac  went  to  answer  it. 
We  could  hear  his  voice  plainly  on  the  staircase. 

*'  Hello  !  Who  is  it  ?  Oh,  good  evening.  Miss 
Fraenkel — ^yes  do.  We're  not  going  out  to-night. 
How  long  will  you  be  ?     Eight.     Good-bye." 

"  She'll  be  up  in  half  an  hour,"  he  said,  going 
back  to  his  easel. 

I  was  by  no  means  certain  that  Miss  Fraenkel 
would  be  able  to  help  us  to  forecast  accurately  the 
future  instalments  of  the  Carville  history.  Of 
course  if  we  could  induce  her  to  assume  that  the 
painter-cousin's  strange  companion  was  Mr.  Car- 
ville's  brother,  she  might  begin  to  treat  the  subject 
with  the  necessary  seriousness.  But  I  had  no  hope 
of  this.  I  was  too  conscious  of  the  extreme  sub- 
tlety of  Mr.  Carville's  art  (we  may  grant  him  that 
now  in  advance)  to  think  that  we  could  transmit 
its  fascination  to  Miss  Fraenkel.  She  would  pro- 
bably be  astonished  at  the  continuance  of  our 
curiosity. 

She  was.  She  began  the  moment  she  arrived, 
to  tell  us  the  vicissitudes  of  a  cause  to  which  she 
had  been  rapidly   and   earnestly  converted,   the 


130  ALIENS 

cause  of  female  suffrage.  It  was  e^-ident  that  her 
reason  for  calUng  was  to  "  let  off  steam/'  as  Mac 
irreverently  phrased  it  afterwards.  A  number  of 
milhonaires'  daughters  had  drawn  upon  them- 
selves  the  eyes  of  the  world  by  tramping  on  foot  to 
Washington  to  plead  for  the  vote.  Miss  FraenkeFs 
eyes  dilated  as  she  told  us.  We  had  seen  the 
account  of  what  the  Neiv  York  Daily  News  called 
"  The  Hike  of  the  Golden  Girls/'  but  our  eyes  had 
not  dilated.  We  had  even  acrimoniously  hinted 
that  the  milUonaires*  daughters  were  seeking 
notoriety  rather  than  a  rehef  for  civil  disabihties 
by  this  undignified  tramp  across  New  Jersey  and 
Maryland.  But  to  Miss  Fraenkel  we  said  nothing 
of  this.  Even  if  we  had  been  averse  to  Miss 
Fraenkel  having  a  vote,  we  would  have  said 
nothing.  Only  Bill  suggested  with  a  smile  that  the 
leading  "  hiker  ''  need  not  have  offered  to  kiss 
the  President  when  he  good-humouredly  granted 
them  an  inter\aew.  Mss  Fraenkel  could  not  see 
it.  There  was  no  di\'inity  that  she  knew  of  to 
hedge  a  president  from  a  kiss. 

"  AMiat  about  the  President's  wife  ?  "  asked 
Bill. 

"  'Why,  slies  one  of  us  !  ''  cried  ]Miss  Fraenkel. 
*'  She  approves  !  '' 

''  Of  kissing  her  husband  ?  "  asked  Bill. 

But  Mss  Fraenkel's  mind  was  fashioned  in  water- 
tight compartments.  She  could  not  switch  her 
enthusiasm  from  the  vote  long  enough  to  appre- 
ciate this  lapse  from  good  taste.     Her  mind  did  not 


ALIENS  131 

work  that  way.  We  would  have  to  begin  at  the 
beginning  and  lead  up  to  kissing  as  a  moral  or  im- 
moral act,  before  she  could  give  it  any  serious 
attention.  And  when  she  asked  Bill  to  join  the 
local  league  I  interposed,  lest  the  harmony  of  the 
evening  should  be  violated. 

"  We  want  your  vote  on  another  question," 
I  said,  and  recounted  the  events  of  the  afternoon. 
She  listened  with  apparent  attention,  playing  with 
a  string  of  beads  that  hung  round  her  neck.  Long 
before  I  finished  I  saw  she  was  ready  to  speak. 

"  I'll  go  right  in  and  ask  her  if  she'll  join  !  " 
she  said. 

''  They've  gone  to  Newark,"  said  Mac. 

"  To-morrow,  then." 

"  Well,"  said  Bill.  "  Come  up  here  to-morrow. 
He's  coming  in  to  tell  us  some  more.  You'll  meet 
him  first  and  he  can  introduce  you  to  his  wife." 

"  That'll  do  first  rate  !  I'm  just  crazy  to  get 
all  the  members  I  can." 

The  conversation  rambled  on  irrelevantly  after 
that,  and  we  realised  that  for  Miss  Fraenkel  at 
least,  the  story  of  Mr.  Carville's  life  was  not  ab- 
sorbingly attractive.  We  enjoyed  her  visit,  as  we 
always  did,  but  her  influence,  in  her  present  pre- 
occupation, was  feverish  and  to  a  certain  sHght 
degree  disturbing. 

The  problem  that  presented  itself  when  I  retired 
that  night  was  immaterial,  perhaps,  but  new.  I 
wondered  quietly  in  what  manner  Mr.  Carville 
would   regard   Miss   Fraenkel.    Doubtless   I   was 


132  ALIENS 

over-exacting,  but  I  desired  to  discover,  in  our 
neighbour's  attitude  towards  the  lady,  some  clue 
to  his  attitude  towards  us.  I  felt  vaguely  that  his 
candour  was  not  at  all  a  mere  casual  fit  of  com- 
municativeness of  which  we  "just  happened  "  to 
be  the  recipients.  If  this  were  the  case,  it  would 
infaUibly  appear  in  his  manner  towards  our  voteless 
friend.  It  would  be  .  .  .  but  no.  My  vanity 
did  not  carry  me  that  far.  The  vanity  of  a  man  of 
forty  is  generally  a  steed  broken  to  harness ;  it 
will  not  prance  far  into  the  unknown.  I  decided 
to  wait  until  Mr.  Carville  decided  the  matter  for 
himself. 


The  spectacle,  while  I  was  shaving  next 
morning,  of  Mr.  Carville  proceeding  sedately  down 
Van  Diemen's  Avenue  with  his  children,  gave 
a  fresh  vagueness  to  his  image  in  my  mind.  It 
was  as  though  a  hand  had  been  passed  over  the 
picture,  smudging  the  outHnes  and  rendering  the 
whole  thing  of  dubious  value.  A  model  father  ! 
In  my  bewilderment  I  nearly  cut  myself.  And  yet, 
supposing,  as  I  had  been  supposing,  that  Mr. 
Carville  had  set  out  with  the  definite  object  of 
contrasting  himself  vividly  with  his  prodigal  brother, 
would  he  not  eventually  take  up  the  role  of  dutiful 
parentage  ?  The  extraordinary  thing  was  that 
tlie  model  father  should  be  also  the  artist. 

I  determined  to  abandon  the  Carville  problem 
for  an  hour  or  two  after  breakfast  in  favour  of 


ALIENS  133 

Maupassant.  It  is  my  custom  to  read  once  a 
year  at  least,  the  chief  works  of  that  incomparable 
writer.  The  forenoon  of  our  Sunday  has  this 
peculiarity  :  no  moral  obligation  to  work  is  imposed 
by  our  unwritten  laws.  If,  on  Sunday  morning,  I 
am  discovered  by  Bill  leisurely  turning  over  a 
pile  of  old  magazines,  or  reading  a  story,  I  am  not 
greeted  with  "  Do  you  call  that  work  ?  "  On  the 
contrary,  she  will  probably  sit  down  beside  me  and 
indulge  in  what  may  be  charitably  described  as 
gossip.  Mac,  too,  will  leave  his  palette  and 
boards  in  peace,  will  He  luxuriantly  in  the  big 
rocker,  or  spade  on  shoulder,  disappear  among  the 
shrubs  at  the  lower  end  of  the  estate.  We  neglect 
collars  and  appear  brazenly  at  breakfast  in  shirt- 
sleeves on  Sunday  mornings.  It  is  for  us  a  day 
of  rest  from  the  insistent  badgering  of  ideas.  Our 
minds  go  into  neglige ;  we  forget  editors  and 
advertising -managers  for  a  while.  Imagine  then 
our  dismay  when  I  reported  my  view  of  Mr.  Carville 
in  his  brushed  blue  serge  and  Derby  hat,  his  glazed 
linen  collar  and  dark  green  tie,  passing  sedately 
down  the  Avenue,  a  neat  child  in  each  hand. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  rift  in  this  man's  armour  of 
respectability.  He  seemed  determined  to  maintain 
a  great  and  terrible  contrast  between  his  inner 
and  outer  life.  0  supreme  artist !  I  stretched 
myself  on  my  sofa  and  opened  Maupassant : 

"  Monsieur,'^  I  read.  "  Doctor  James  Ferdinand 
does  not  exist,  hut  the  man  whose  eyes  you  saw  does, 
and   you   will   certainly   recognize   his   eyes.     This 


134  ALIENS 

77ian  has  committed  two  crimes,  for  which  he  does 
not  feel  any  remorse,  hut,  as  a  psychologist,  he  is 
afraid  of  some  day  yielding  to  the  irresistible  tempta- 
tion of  confessing  his  crimes.'^ 

I  laid  down  the  book,  drawn  by  the  aptness  of 
the  text  to  my  problem.  Had  Maupassant  given 
me  the  key  of  the  whole  enigma  ?  Was  this 
astonishing  genius,  who  had  so  wrought  upon  our 
imaginations,  was  he  a  criminal  irresistibly  driven 
to  tell  us  the  story  of  his  evil  Hfe  ?  Were  the  poHce 
of  Europe  and  America  even  now  scouring  the 
surface  of  the  globe  for  him  ?  That  brother,  that 
dare-devil  gentleman  of  the  painter-cousin's  letter, 
was  a  fitting  accomplice  for  him,  the  quiet,  unobtru- 
sive, impeccable  "  seaman."  He  had  a  number, 
what  was  it  ?  Three -nine-  (fool  not  to  write  it 
down !)  three -nine -something.  Was  that  his 
number  during  his  last  imprisonment  ?  Had  he 
spoken  in  terrific  hyperbole  when  he  admitted 
that  no  doubt  it  was  "  a  picturesque  life  "  ?  Good 
God  !  How  blind  we  had  been  !  And  Miss  Fraen- 
kel's  shot  in  the  dark,  was  it  after  all  the  truth  ? 
Had  he  really  been  "  held  for  something  "  ? 

I  let  my  pipe  go  out,  so  possessed  was  I,  tem- 
porarily, ^ith  the  diaboHcal  possibility.  A  double 
knock  at  the  door  sent  the  blood  to  my  heart.  I 
rose,  and  passing  into  the  front  room  opened  the 
door.  Mr.  Carville  stood  in  the  porch  in  an  attitude 
of  profound  meditation.  The  sight  of  him,  phleg- 
matic and  isolated  from  all  emotion,  restored  the 
balance  of  my  mind  somewhat.     We  shook  hands 


ALIENS  135 

and  he  still  stood  there,  trying  to  remember  some- 
thing. 

"  Another  fine  day,"  I  said.  '*  I  saw  you  out 
early  this  morning." 

He  nodded  absently,  and  then  his  face  lightened. 

Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  if  any  further  surprise 
was  possible,  he  Hfted  his  steady  grey-blue  eyes  to 
mine,  raised  his  right  hand  as  high  as  his  shoulder 
and  began  to  recite. 

"  When  that  the  Knight  had  thus  his  tale  i-told, 
In  al  the  route  was  ther  young  ne  old 
That  he  ne  seyde  it  was  a  noble  story, 
And  worthy  to  be  drawen  to  memory."  * 

And  extending  a  finger  he  pointed  to  the  httle 
brass  Canterbury  Pilgrim  that  served  us  for  a 
knocker.  *'  They  told  stories  too,  eh  ?  "  he  said 
smiUng. 

"  You  read  Chaucer  ?  "  I  murmured,  staggering 
to  a  chair  in  the  porch. 

"  Why,  sure  !  "  he  said,  "  don't  you  ?  "  And 
he  took  out  his  pipe. 

I  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  even  when  I  had 
recovered  my  poise.  The  clever  appHcation  of  the 
Chaucerian  verse  to  his  own  case  was  crushing.  I 
said  nothing  of  it  to  Mac  when  he  appeared  with  a 
pair  of  shears  intended  for  the  borders. 

"  Hullo,  Mr.  Carville,"  he  said.  "  Come  to  finish 
the  story  ?     Wait  till  I  tell  the  wife." 

*  Prologue  to  "  The  Miller's  Tale." 


136  ALIENS 

"  Now  Where's  the  hurry  ?  "  said  our  neighbour 
deprecatingly,  and  sitting  down  he  began  to  cut  up 
some  tobacco.  I  looked  across  at  New  York,  still 
surrounded  in  diaphanous  mist,  and  endeavoured  to 
adjust  my  mind  to  the  immediate  business.  Since 
dinner  the  night  before  I  had  been  indulging  in 
somewhat  frothy  speculation.  It  was  only  fair 
that  Mr.  Carville  should  have  the  floor  and  speak 
for  himself.  Bill  came  out  and  nodded  brightly. 
None  of  us  suggested  waiting  for  Miss  Fraenkel. 
I  think  we  were  anxious  to  hear  a  Uttle  more  of 
Mr.  Carville  before  Miss  Fraenkel  arrived ;  a  sort 
of  presentiment,  if  you  like. 

"  Do  tell  us  about  your  brother,  Mr.  Carville/' 
said  Bill.     "  What  happened  to  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Carville  struck  a  match  and  puffed  away  in 
the  conscientious  manner  demanded  by  a  corn- 
cob. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  he  said,  carefully  expelhng 
a  jet  of  smoke  from  the  corner  of  his  closed  lips, 
^'  he  came  back,  my  brother  did." 

Bill  looked  at  him  in  tragic  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

He  Continues  His  Tale 

"  It  was  like  this,"  he  went  on.  "  Apart  from  a 
general  dislike  of  doing  things  that  boys  consider 
*  bad  form '  my  brother  had  no  scruples  at  all. 
For  instance,  if  a  stranger  cheeks  you,  you  feel  as 
if  you'd  like  to  hit  him.  My  young  brother  did 
hit  him.  What  was  still  more  to  his  advantage  he 
gave  people  the  impression  that  he  was  always 
ready  to  jump  over  the  table  at  them.  My  im- 
pression is  that  the  old  Head  didn't  dare  flog 
him  and  had  been  glad  to  find  an  excuse  to  get  rid 
of  him.  It  didn't  occur  to  the  old  chap  that  my 
brother  wouldn't  come  home.  He  Uttle  knew  my 
brother ! 

"  Several  days  passed  and  we  began  to  get 
anxious.  My  mother  telegraphed  the  Head  and 
the  railway  company.  No  good.  Now  it's  all 
very  well  for  well-meaning  people  to  say  '  tell  the 
police,'  but  when  you  are  up  against  a  private 
disgrace,  you  think  pretty  hard  before  you  walk 
into  a  poHce  station.  My  brother  was  fifteen  and 
big  for  his  age.  Why,  he  might  disguise  himself 
anyhow.     The    week-end   came   before    we    made 

137 


138  ALIENS 

up  our  minds  that  the  poHce  would  have  to  be 
notified.  I  went  to  Scotland  Yard  on  the  Saturday 
afternoon  with  a  reward  and  description.  I  don't 
pretend  that  I  felt  very  anxious  about  him.  He 
had  never  sought  either  my  friendship  or  my  pro- 
tection, and  we  looked  at  hfe  from  totally  different 
angles.  To  me  there  was  something  common  and 
dirty  about  an  intrigue  with  a  school-slavey.  My 
brother,  I  thought,  should  have  been  above  that 
sort  of  thing.  But  he  wasn't  and  he  never  has 
been.  With  him  a  woman  is  just  a  woman.  He 
raises  his  hand  and  they  come  running,  and  apolo- 
gising if  they're  late.  So  after  I  had  been  to  Scot- 
land Yard,  I  stayed  down  West,  went  to  a  theatre 
and  looked  in  at  El  Vino  for  a  glass  of  port  after- 
wards. El  Vino  in  those  days  had  a  curious  reputa- 
tion, quite  different  from  the  Continental  or  the 
Leicester  Lounge.  No  one  would  ever  suggest 
you  were  a  loose  fish  because  you  drank  a  dock- 
glass  in  El  Vino,  though  there  were  women  there 
every  night.  Just  as  I  was  lifting  the  glass  some 
one  gave  me  a  slap  on  the  back.  It  was  my  young 
brother. 

"  '  Hullo,  Charlie  ! '  he  says.  '  Fancy  you 
here.' 

**  *  What  are  you  doing  here  ? '  I  asked  him.  I 
reahsed  he  was  as  tall  as  I  was.  '  Why  aren't 
you  at  home  ?  ' 

"  '  I'm  coming  home  with  you,  CharHe  boy,'  he 
says,  looking  round  at  the  girls.  '  All  the  old 
talent  here,  you  see  ! ' 


ALIENS  139 

"  I  own  frankly  I  was  disgusted.  I  was  so  dis- 
gusted I  never  went  into  that  place  again.  We 
got  the  12.20  at  King's  Cross  and  it  was  a 
quarter  past  one  in  the  morning  before  we  arrived 
at  our  house.  Here  was  a  nice  state  of  things; 
the  elder  son  finding  his  fifteen-year-old  brother 
in  El  Vino,  and  coming  home  with  the  milk.  That 
was  my  brother's  way  all  along.  He  made  every- 
thing I  do  seem  a  black  sin.  I  left  him  to  tell  his 
own  story  and  turned  in. 

"  The  next  morning  he  went  on  the  carpet.  My 
mother  gave  him  a  pretty  hot  talking  to.  She 
told  him  he  was  a  disgrace  to  the  name  of  Carville, 
that  he'd  begun  bad  and  would  go  to  worse.  She 
asked  him  how  she  was  ever  to  get  him  into  a 
position  if  he  left  school  like  that  and  for  such  a 
reason.  He  took  out  a  cigarette-case  and  helped 
himself.  '  No  need  to  worry,  mater,'  says  he, 
*  I've  got  a  position  already.' 

"  And  so  he  had  !  He'd  gone  into  the  city  and 
got  a  position  in  a  big  wholesale  house  as  a  clerk. 
Ask  me  how  he  did  it  and  all  I  can  say  is  '  Person - 
ahty.'  He  could  do  anything  with  anybody. 
There  he  was,  fifteen,  with  a  guinea  a  week  to  start. 
And  I  was  twenty -two  and  only  getting  a  few 
shillings  more. 

"  After  the  first  shock  my  mother  resigned  her- 
self to  the  inevitable  and  hoped  for  the  best.  And 
for  a  couple  of  years  we  managed  to  rub  along 
without  any  scandals.  In  our  several  ways,  my 
brother  and  I  were  busy  with  life,  as  far  as  we  knew 


140  ALIENS  ' 

it.  He  went  up  to  the  city  every  day,  and  played 
football  and  cricket,  but  the  serious  business  of 
his  life  was  girls.  He  seemed  to  have  hundreds. 
If  I  saw  him  in  the  Strand,  on  Saturday,  he  would 
be  with  three  or  four.  If  I  met  him  on  Hadley 
Common,  on  Sunday,  he  would  have  three  or  four 
there,  but  fresh  ones.  He  had  them  in  the  trains, 
he  lunched  with  them  in  the  city.  Barring  the  few 
hours  he  spent  in  our  house  at  night  he  lived  chiefly 
on  girls.  There  were  a  score  or  so  in  the  house 
where  he  worked,  a  wholesale  business  in  Wood 
Street.  It  was  a  mania,  you  might  say  ;  but  it  was 
the  girls  who  had  the  mania,  not  him.  He  spent  all 
his  money  as  he  got  it  on  them,  he  borrowed  more 
and  spent  that.  One  thing  particularly  annoyed 
me  just  about  this  time,  and  that  was  his  free  way 
of  borrowing  my  clothes  w^hen  they  fitted  him. 
Vests  and  ties  especially.  You  may  think  it  a 
trivial  matter,  but  to  me  there  was  something 
exasperating  in  seeing  one's  brother  on  a  park  seat 
in  the  dusk,  with  his  girl's  head  leaning  on  one's 
own  fancy  vest !  He  would  just  shy  whatever  he 
had  borrowed  on  the  bed  and  leave  me  to  pick 
the  hair  off  it.  What  they  call  a  Supermcm, 
I  believe,  nowadays.  I  had  another  name  for 
him. 

"  Apart  from  these  annoyances,  I  was  sliding 
along  a  well-oiled  groove  in  life.  It  generally 
happens  that  a  young  man  in  such  a  position  as 
mine  marries  and  settles  down  for  good.  Now  it 
may  have  been  that  my  brother's  wholesale  dealings 


ALIENS  141 

with  girls  threw  me  to  the  other  extreme.  I  don't 
think  that  had  much  to  do  with  it.  I  think,  now, 
that  I  had  a  natural  bent  towards  Culture. 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,"  said  Mr.  Carville- 
"  I  use  that  word  without  any  doubt  of  what  it 
means.  I  know  George  Du  Manner's  sneers.  Cul- 
ture means  an  instinct  for  the  best.  I  had  that.  I 
have  it  now. 

"  I  don't  say  that  culture  is  opposed  to  marriage. 
That  would  be  nonsense.  But  it  may  seriously 
interfere  with  marriage.  A  young  man  in  the 
twenties  has  no  irresistible  desire  for  matrimony.  As 
a  rule  I  mean.  And  if  sport  or  business  or,  as  in'my 
case,  study,  takes  up  his  attention,  he  will  put  it 
off  for  a  while.  That's  what  happened  to  me. 
I  had  access  to  books.  I  had  an  easy  job  and  no 
great  responsibility.  I  knew  nothing  about  the 
world  really ;  I  only  read  about  it  in  books.  It 
seemed  to  me  a  splendid  thing  to  be  a  learned  man. 
I  became  a  book-worm,  reading  several  hours  a 
day.  What  was  I  aiming  at  ?  Upon  my  soul  I 
can't  say.  It  was  just  blind  instinct  leading  me 
on  to  read  the  books  that  since  then  have  become 
part  of  me. 

''  My  work  was,  as  I  said,  Hght.  The  firm  I  was 
with  were  speciahsts  in  certain  machinery,  and  I 
was  assistant  to  the  London  manager.  I  had  to 
plan  out  and  make  estimates  for  various  plants, 
and  travel  about  the  south  of  England  getting 
orders  and  superintending  erection.  I  can  tell  you 
it  just  suited  me,  those  journeys  by  train.     I  always 


142  ALIENS 

had  my  book  with  me,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  been 
over  a  job,  I  forgot  all  about  contracts  and  went 
back  to  Pater,  or  Gibbon  or  Flaubert  or  Emerson, 
whoever  I  happened  to  be  reading.  In  the  evenings 
I  used  to  try  and  imitate  what  I  had  read. 

"  But  what  could  I  write  ?  What  did  I  know  ? 
Nothing !  I  had  never  been  anyivhere,  I  had 
never  met  anybody  in  particular,  I  had  never  been 
in  love.  I  had  never  woke  up.  I  was  in  a  sort 
of  trance,  surrounded  by  the  traditions  of  the 
genteel  professional  class.  Of  course,  in  a  dim 
way  I  knew  that  my  mother  expected  me  to  be 
something  exceptional,  but  I  was  too  comfortable 
to  make  any  effort.  It  seemed  to  me  I  was  quite 
unconventional  enough  in  being  such  a  reader 
and  in  keeping  clear  of  girls.  I  wonder  where  I 
would  have  landed,  supposing  I  had  never  woke 
up. 

"  My  brother  was  going  his  way  all  this  time, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  he  roused  me  up  again.  For 
a  long  time  he  had  been  earning  twenty-five 
shilKngs  a  week  and  spending  forty,  and  my 
mother  had  been  making  good  the  deficit.  She 
had  just  given  him  a  five-pound  note  to  pay  for 
his  quarterly  season-ticket  on  the  railway.  He 
didn't  pay  it.  Just  went  on  travelKng  to  the  city 
with  the  old  one.  Of  course,  a  lot  of  people  had 
done  that  trick  and  the  Company  were  wise  to 
it.  My  brother  was  caught  and  summoned  before 
the  Lord  Mayor  at  the  Mansion  House.  You  can 
beUeve  my  mother  was  distressed.     It  wouldn't 


ALIENS  143 

have  been  so  bad  if  he  had  only  held  his  tongue 
and  let  her  pay  the  forty  shilUngs  fine  and  costs. 
No!  he  had  to  give  the  Lord  Mayor  a  piece  of 
his  mind.  And  that  made  the  evening  papers 
feature  the  amusing  incident,  as  they  called  it. 

"  I  must  admit  the  boy  made  out  a  very  good 
case.  He  told  the  Court,  his  father,  his  brother 
and  himself  had  been  travelling  over  the  line  for 
something  like  sixteen  years.  Altogether  we  had 
paid  the  railways  two  hundred  pounds  in  fares. 
*  Now,'  says  he  to  the  Court,  '  if  I  had  done 
two  hundred  pounds  worth  of  business  with  a 
firm,  they  wouldn't  be  down  on  me  for  being  a  day 
or  two  late  with  a  small  account  of  five  pounds, 
would  they  ?  They'd  be  glad  to  accommodate  me. 
But  the  railway  wants  to  put  me  in  prison.'  Well, 
the  Lord  Mayor  happened  to  be  a  shareholder  in 
the  railway,  and  of  course  he  couldn't  admit  that 
at  all.  He  fined  him  the  regulation  forty  shilHngs 
and  several  pounds  costs.  But  as  I  said,  this 
pecuHar  argument  of  my  brother's  got  the  case 
into  a  prominent  position  and  everybody  saw  it. 
His  employers  saw  it  and  cashiered  him  the  next 
morning.  My  uncle,  who  Hved  at  Surbiton,  saw 
it  and  wrote  to  my  mother. 

"  The  first  I  saw  of  it  was  in  the  papers. 
I  remember  feeling  sick  and  giddy  all  over  when 
I  saw  our  name  in  the  police  court  news.  '  The 
Seamij  Side '  they  called  it.  When  I  got  home 
my  brother  and  my  mother  were  having  it  out. 
He   didn't   care.     It   was   all   over   for   him,   he 


144  ALIENS 

admitted.  Better  let  him  start  afresh  somewhere 
else.  My  mother  wanted  to  send  him  to  Canada, 
where  she  had  relatives,  but  he  said  he'd  be  damned 
if  he  went  to  Canada.  He  was  sick  of  clerking. 
What  did  he  want  to  do  ?  I  asked  him.  He 
said  he  was  going  in  for  engineering.  I  smiled 
at  this,  and  he  rounded  on  me.  '  Oh  I  don't 
mean  your  engineering,'  he  says.  '  I  mean  some- 
thing that's  worth  while.'    Very  sneering  he  was. 

*'  Well,  do  you  know  what  he  did  ?  He  got 
fifty  pounds  out  of  my  mother  to  start  with  and 
disappeared.  That's  all.  Simply  vanished  with- 
out a  word.  In  a  way  it  was  a  rehef .  We  gave  out 
that  he  had  gone  to  Canada  and  the  scandal  died 
down.  A  month  later  my  uncle  wrote  and  men- 
tioned that  Frank  had  called  on  him  and  borrowed 
fifty  pounds  to  go  to  New  Zealand  with.  I  don't 
know  how  he  managed  to  do  it,  for  my  uncle  doesn't 
let  go  easy  at  all.  He  has  had  to  work  for  his 
money  too  hard.  PersonaHty,  I  suppose.  If  my 
brother  had  had  a  five  minute  personal  interview 
with  the  Lord  Mayor  I  daresay  he  w^ould  have 
got  the  old  chap  to  pay  the  fine  for  him. 

"  After  this  little  brush-up  my  mother  and  I 
jogged  along  for  a  few  years  as  quiet  as  before. 
I  was  still  in  my  job  as  manager's  assistant,  and 
still  reading  away  into  the  classics.  I  was  about 
twenty-five  when  all  my  ideas  and  prejudices  shd 
away  over  side  and  I  found  I  had  got  the  disease 
we  call  love.     It  nearly  killed  me." 

Mr.  Carville  paused  and  leaned  over  to  knock 


ALIENS  145 

his  pipe  against  the  geranium- tub.  We  did  not 
interrogate  him.  There  was  something  numbing  to 
me  in  the  thought  of  this  quiet  ordinary  Httle  man 
telling  us  in  a  quiet  matter-of-fact  tone  that  love 
had  nearly  killed  him.  We  had  no  comment 
worthy  of  the  fact.  He  looked  across  the  valley 
for  a  moment  as  though  lost  in  retrospection. 

*'  She  came  home  from  a  convent  in  Brussels/' 
he  continued,  feehng  for  his  Httle  brass  box,  ''  and 
to  use  the  slang  of  our  professional  class,  her 
people  knew  my  people.  That  was  the  way  we 
talked.  If  a  thing  was  good,  we  called  it '  ripping.' 
If  it  was  unpleasant,  we  said  it  was  '  beastly.' 
I  believe  the  slang  has  changed  since  then,  but  the 
silly  artificial  spirit  of  it  will  never  change.  Why 
can't  educated  people  speak  Enghsh  ? 

"  She  came  home  from  a  convent  in  Brussels. 
Her  home  was  about  a  mile  off,  a  big  house  in  East 
Barnet,  and  she  called  with  her  mother  one  day 
when  I  happened  to  come  home  from  a  journey 
early.     She  gave  me  a  look.  .  .  . 

"  You  see,  she  wasn't  beautiful.  She  was  well- 
dressed  and  well-mannered  and  she  had  grey  eyes. 
Beyond  that  I  haven't  any  distinct  memory  of  what 
she  was  like.  And  the  astounding  thing  to  me, 
when  I  look  back  on  that  business,  is  the  utter  lack 
of  any  common  interests.  How  could  I  expect  her 
to  take  any  notice  of  me.  I  was  a  book-worm.  I 
couldn't  do  any  of  the  social  tricks  she  admired. 
I  knew  as  much  about  music  as  a  cow,  and  con- 
sidered tennis  a  bore.     And  yet  I  wanted  her.     I 

K 


146  ALIENS 

wanted  that  eighteen-year-old  girl  as  I've  never 
wanted  anything  since.  I  made  myself  a  door-mat 
for  her  feet,  I  took  her  impudence  and  said  nothing, 
I  waited  for  her  and  made  no  complaint  when  she 
forgot  to  keep  an  appointment.  My  mother  saw 
it  and  did  her  best  to  help  me  (though  it  wasn't 
much)  for  she  wanted  me  to  get  married.  This 
would  have  been  a  good  match,  for  it  so  happened 
that '  her  people  '  were  in  a  position  to  advance  me 
in  my  profession,  as  I  called  it. 

"And  strange  to  say,  my  persistence  did  make 
some  impression.  I  did  make  some  headway.  I 
chucked  my  books  to  one  side,  went  in  for  tennis, 
and  even  took  girls  up  the  river  to  Kingston  and 
Bourne  End,  she  being  one  of  them.  It  made  a 
hole  in  the  Httle  bank  account  I  had  started,  but  I 
suppose  it  was  worth  it.  I  met  a  lot  of  pretty  girls  ; 
but  I  was  not  after  a  pretty  girl ;  I  was  after  her. 
The  river  was  a  lot  in  my  favour,  I  believe.  It  so 
happened  that  Belvoir's  young  brother,  a  Charter- 
house boy,  whom  I  knew  shghtly,  nearly  ran  our 
punt  down  one  Saturday  with  his  launch.  It  made 
a  big  impression  on  Gladys,  my  knowing  young 
Belvoir.  You  see  she  had  been  at  school  with 
Belvoir's  cousin,  so  it  all  worked  in.  In  a  way  I 
suppose  I  was  happy  .  .  .  yes  it's  a  wonderful 
thing,  a  tremendous  thing  to  be  in  love ;  but  all 
the  same,  I  wouldn't  hke  to  go  through  it  again  ! 

"  So  it  stood,  when  one  day  in  the  autumn,  the 
whole  thing  capsized.     My  brother  came  back. 

''  He  didn't  come  back  like  any  other  prodigal 


ALIENS  147 

I  ever  heard  of.  No,  he  came  back  in  his  own  wajj, 
Hke  a  conquering  hero,  which  he  was.  He  came 
back  on  an  automobile. 

"  You  laugh  ?  But  you  must  remember  that  in 
those  days  there  weren't  fifty  automobiles  in  Eng- 
land. When  my  brother  came  up  the  London 
Road  with  a  whiz  and  a  bang,  a  long  trail  of  blue 
stench  coming  out  of  the  back  of  the  machine,  I 
really  think  that  was  the  third  or  fourth  time  I  had 
ever  seen  such  a  thing.  Well,  there  he  was,  a  great 
big  chap  with  a  hooked  nose  and  flashing  black 
eyes  behind  the  goggles.  Where  had  he  been  ? 
Neither  to  Canada  nor  to  New  Zealand.  He'd 
been  to  France.  He'd  gone  there  and  learned  the 
motor-car  business  in  one  of  the  first  shops  ever 
built.  Picked  it  up  you  may  say,  as  he  picked 
everything  up,  but  he  got  it  none  the  less.  He'd 
seen  the  possibilities  of  the  thing,  and  here  he  was 
appointed  London  agent  for  the  French  firm  at  three 
hundred  a  year.  He  laughed  when  he  saw  me.  '  Hullo, 
CharHe  ! '  he  sneers,  *  How's  the  puf!-puf!s  ?  ' 
He  sneered  at  everything  about  me.  I  had  learned 
to  read  French  pretty  well  and  knew  my  classics 
in  the  original,  but  here  was  my  young  brother 
sneering  at  me  in  French  argot  which  he  knew  I 
couldn't  resent  because  I  couldn't  understand  it. 

"  He  would  come  down  to  the  tennis  club  that 
evening,  though  I  didn't  want  him.  Somehow  I 
dreaded  introducing  him  to  Gladys.  There  was  no 
need  for  me  to  worry.  He  introduced  himself. 
In  another  five  minutes  he  was  talking  French  with 


148  ALIENS 

her,  and  she  was  screaming  with  laughter  at  the 
stories  he  told  her.     He  saw  her  home  .  .  . 

"  You  can  understand  that  the  next  day  I  was 
in  a  bad  condition  for  work.  And  it  so  happened 
that  I  had  a  job  that  needed  all  the  concentration 
I  could  give  it.  I  don't  remember  a  single  detail 
of  it.  I  had  been  neglecting  my  work  then,  like 
all  young  chaps  in  love,  but  on  this  occasion  I  made 
a  costly  mistake.  I  marked  the  driving  pulley  on  a 
line-shaft  a  foot  too  small.  The  aggravating  part 
was  I  sent  it  to  the  head  office  in  Yorkshire  without 
revising  it  and  they  got  on  to  my  boss.  He  took 
the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  went  for  me.  He  gave  me 
a  week  to  find  another  job.  I  was  '  down  and 
out.' 

"  I  was  paralysed  for  a  while.  I  didn't  know 
where  to  turn.  The  bottom  had  dropped  out  of 
my  world  for  good  and  all.  Another  job  !  Why, 
I  knew  men  in  that  employ  who  had  held  their  jobs 
for  forty  years. 

''  I  said  nothing  about  it  at  home.  My  brother, 
with  his  three  hundred  a  year  and  his  French  argot, 
made  home  unbearable  and  I  thought  of  clearing 
out  of  it.  But  where  could  I  go  ?  You  see,  if  you 
work  for  some  speciahst  for  a  number  of  years, 
the  only  job  you  can  move  to  is  a  position  with 
another  speciahst  of  the  same  hne.  And  this 
business  I  was  in  was  run  by  about  six  big 
firms. 

*'  Still,  the  thought  of  clearing  out  held  me.  I 
saw  that  if  my  brother  was  going  to  live  at  home, 


ALIENS  149 

I'd  have  to  go.  And  Saturday  came  round  and 
found  me  wondering  what  to  do. 

"  At  times  I  used  to  go  over  to  my  uncle's  at 
Surbiton.  It  was  my  duty  to  pay  respects,  so  to 
speak.  His  family  had  a  grudge  against  my 
mother,  because  if  my  father  hadn't  married  her, 
they  would  have  inherited  his  money,  so  that  there 
was  not  much  love  lost  between  them.  But 
occasionally  my  old  uncle  would  ring  me  up  and  ask 
me  to  go  down  with  him.  He  did  this  Saturday  I 
speak  of,  and  as  there  was  no  one  else  in  my  office 
at  the  time  I  told  him  my  trouble.  And  he 
laughed  !     Humph  ! 

"  The  inhuman  old  shell-back  laughed  !  And 
yet,  if  you'll  beheve  me,  when  I  heard  the  old  chap 
rumbling  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire,  it  cheered 
me  up.  I  began  to  think,  '  Why  he  may  have  in- 
fluence. He  may  get  me  a  job.'  You  see  the 
vicious  state  of  mind  of  the  professional  class  ! 
When  I  mentioned  the  possibility  to  him,  he  said, 
'  I  can  get  you  a  job  all  right.  How'd  you  like  to 
go  to  sea  ?  ' 

"  I  nearly  dropped  the  receiver  when  he  said  that. 
Go  to  sea  !  People  in  residential  suburbs  didn't 
go  to  sea  ! 

'' '  Eh  ? '  I  said.     '  What  d'you  mean  ?  ' 

"  '  What  I  said,'  he  bellows.     '  Go  to  sea.' 

"  '  I'll  come  round  and  talk  to  you,'  I  said. 

"  I  went  round  and  found  him  in  the  office.  He 
was  a  fierce  old  chap,  burnt  black  with  sun,  and 
with  hair  grey  as  the  sea.     He  was  enjoying  his  Hfe 


150  ALIENS 

apparently,  bossing  things  in  that  office.  But  he 
told  me  at  once  that  he  could  do  no  more  than  give 
me  a  chance  to  start  at  the  bottom.  I  must  work 
up  and  pass  the  Board  of  Trade  tests  for  each 
grade.  I  give  him  credit  for  painting  the  picture 
as  dark  as  he  could.  He  even  suggested  I  should  try 
and  get  another  draughtsman's  job  if  I  was  afraid 
of  going  through  the  mill.  But  I  didn't  know 
enough  to  be  afraid,  and  asked  him  off-hand  when 
he  would  need  me. 

'' '  We  don't  need  you,'  he  said,  as  if  surprised. 
'  We  can  get  a  couple  of  thousand  young  fellows 
to-morrow  if  we  want  them.     It's  up  to  you.' 

"  That  was  the  first  slap  in  the  face.  I  sat  there 
in  that  great  gloomy  vault  of  an  office  in  Fenchurch 
Street,  looking  at  the  half-models  of  ships  and  a 
map  of  the  docks  at  Monte  Video  on  the  walls,  and 
wondering  what  I  should  do.  I  was  not  hesitating, 
you  understand,  because  of  pride.  No,  that  was 
gone.  My  brother,  when  he  saw  Gladys  home,  had 
done  for  that.  It  was  more  like  a  fear  gripping  at 
me.  I  was  scared  at  letting  go  of  my  professional 
easy-going  hfe.  I'd  never  been  on  a  ship  since  I'd 
been  born  on  one.  I  knew  nothing  about  marine 
engineering.     I  hesitated  because  I  was  afraid. 

"  '  When  shall  I  start  ?  '  I  asked  after  a  while. 

"  '  The  Cory  don's  in  the  river  now,'  said  my  uncle. 
'  They  want  a  Fourth  :  can  you  get  down  to-night  ?  ' 

"  '  To-night ! '  I  said.  ^  I've  not  given  notice 
yet!' 

"  '  Phone  from  here,'  he  says. 


ALIENS  151 

"  '  But  I've  notliing  packed,'  I  whimpered.  And 
Le  laughed. 

"  I  know  now  why  he  laughed.  Partly  because 
a  landsman  is  always  rather  a  comic  figure  to  a 
sailor,  partly  because  he  knew  how  I  had  been 
brought  up.  He  had  never  agreed  with  the  theory 
of  gentility  which  had  taken  such  a  hold  of  my 
mother.  He  was  as  out  of  place  in  his  Surbiton 
home  as  a  bear  in  a  back -yard.  His  daughters, 
my  cousins,  couldn't  make  him  see  the  importance, 
in  England,  of  gentility.  When  he  and  my  father 
and  all  the  rest  of  them  had  been  boys  on  that  New 
England  farm,  they  had  had  to  collect  the  stones  off 
the  land  to  build  the  houses  with.  No  stones,  no 
dinner.  And  now  he  had  a  house  in  Surbiton,  and 
was  laughing  at  me,  who  had  never  hfted  a  stone 
in  my  life.  Even  in  the  works  where  I  was  a  pupil, 
we  had  always  had  a  little  private  lavatory  to  wash 
and  change  in.  He  laughed  at  me.  He  believed 
one  trip  would  be  enough  for  me.  He  didn't  be- 
lieve for  a  minute  that  I  would  stick  to  it. 

"  But  I  was  making  up  my  mind.  Somehow  or 
other,  in  spite  of  my  twenty -five  years  in  cotton- 
wool, I  had  imagination  enough  to  see  in  my  uncle's 
weather-beaten  old  face  something  that  was  not  in 
the  city  faces  I  saw  every  day.  He  had  come  into 
London  out  of  an  alien  world.  Then,  I  argued, 
there  are  other  worlds  beside  this  one  !  I  had  not 
realized  it  before  !  All  the  time  I  was  snug  in  my 
little  job  in  Victoria  Street  men  were  out  on  the 
sea,  out  in  the  heat  and  cold  and  wet,  living  in  a 


152  ALIENS 

totally  different  world  to  mine.  You  may  think  it 
a  foolish  and  common  enough  idea,  but  to  me  it 
was  dazzling,  blinding.  It  took  hold  of  me.  I 
could  think  of  nothing  else.  I  said,  '  I'll  go,  but  I 
can't  go  to-night,  I've  nothing  to  wear.'  So  my 
uncle  told  me  to  go  to  Cardiff  and  meet  the  Corydon 
at  Barry  Dock. 

*' '  What's  she  hke  ?  '  I  said,  standing  up.  He 
took  me  into  another  office  and  showed  me  a  beau- 
tiful model  of  a  steamer. 

"  '  There  she  is,'  he  says.  '  That's  the  old  Cory- 
don, I  commanded  her  for  three  years.'  I  can 
tell  you  I  was  pleased  to  think  I  was  going  to  sea 
in  such  a  fine  ship.     Humph  ! 

*'  I  went  home  and  had  a  talk  with  my  mother. 
All  her  ideas  were  capsized  too.  Here  was  her  eldest 
son,  the  quiet,  studious,  respectable  elder  son,  out 
of  employment,  while  her  harum-scarum  dis- 
obedient Frank  was  getting  three  hundred  a  year 
and  with  good  prospects.  She  was  all  bewildered 
by  it.  You  can't  blame  her.  She  looked  at  me 
when  I  told  her  what  I  was  going  to  do.  '  Take 
plenty  of  socks,'  she  said  quietly.  '  You'll  need 
them  at  sea.'  And  I  suddenly  remembered  she'd 
done  the  very  same  thing  I  was  to  do,  long  ago ; 
broken  out  of  her  life  and  made  a  fresh  start — on 
the  sea. 

"  And  what  had  happened  to  me  ?  You'll  think 
I  was  a  pretty  cheap  sort  of  a  lover  to  let  my 
brother  cut  me  out  so  easy  as  that.  You'll  say  I 
never  really  loved  her.     Who  can  tell  that  ?     AVho 


ALIENS  153 

can  say  how  much  or  how  Httle  he  loves  ?  Yes, 
yes,  I  loved  her.  But  what,  I  ask  you,  is  the  use 
of  a  man  mooning  his  life  away  for  a  girl  who  has 
never  given  him  a  minute's  thought  ?  It  is  a  waste 
of  time  and  energy  and  life.  When  that  view  of 
worlds  outside  of  mine  broke  on  me  the  love- 
trance  broke.  I  said  to  myself :  *  I  am  young ; 
I  will  go  out  and  see  things.  Well,  I  went  out  and 
I  saw  things,  and  I  don't  regret  it.  But  there's 
one  thing  we  never  see  again,  and  that's  the  illusion 
of  first  love. 

"  I  begged  my 'mother  to  say  nothing  to  Frank 
about  me  until  I  was  gone,  and  a  day  or  two  later 
I  sHpped  away  to  Paddington  with  a  couple  of 
grips  and  took  the  train  to  Barry  Docks.  It  will 
give  you  an  idea  of  the  quiet  hfe  I  had  led  when  I 
tell  you  this  was  my  first  long  journey.  I  had 
been  to  places  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
of  London,  but  never  farther.  I  felt  lost  when 
they  turned  me  out  on  the  platform  at  Barry  in  the 
rain  and  dark.  A  sea-port  is  not  a  very  attractive 
place  to  a  landsman. 

"  The  next  twenty-four  hours  were  strenuous  for 
me.  More  than  once  I  wondered  if  I  could  live 
through  it.  When  I  got  to  the  dock  I  walked  up 
and  down  looking  for  a  ship  that  resembled  the 
model  of  the  Corydon.  There  weren't  any.  I 
asked  a  man  in  a  blue  frock-coat  if  the  Corydon  had 
come  in. 

''  *  Aye,'  says  he.  *  Here  she  is,  just  abaft  of 
ye,'  and  he  pointed  to  a  rusty,  dirty  old  tub  with 


154  ALIENS 

a  battered  funnel  and  a  bridge  all  blocked  with 
hatches.  That  the  beautiful  shiny  Conjdon  ? 
There  was  the  name  on  her  stern  —  Corydon, 
London.  She  was  loading  coal  from  a  big  elevator. 
Her  decks  were  piled  high  with  it,  and  where  there 
wasn't  coal  there  was  mud,  black  oozy  mud,  and 
ashes  and  ropes  and  soppy  hatches.  I  chmbed  up 
the  ladder  and  one  by  one  got  my  grips  aboard. 
And  I  stood  there  in  the  rain,  my  gloves  all  black 
with  the  coal  on  the  ladder,  my  nice  mackintosh 
barred  with  it,  and  my  boots  slipping  on  the  iron 
plates.  No  one  took  any  notice  of  me.  Men  went 
to  and  fro  in  oilskins  and  shouted,  but  they  didn't 
seem  to  see  me.  Just  for  a  moment  I  thought  of 
bolting  !     Humph  ! 

"  Finally  I  spoke  to  one  of  the  men,  saying  I  had 
a  letter  for  the  chief  engineer.  He  took  me  round 
into  a  dark  alleyway  under  the  bridge-deck  aft  and 
shouted  down  :  '  Here  comes  the  Second,'  he  says. 
'  He'll  fix  ye.' 

"Well,  he  came  up,  that  Second  did,  not  very 
pleased  at  being  distm'bed.  '  What  is  it  ?  '  he  says. 
He  was  grease  from  head  to  foot,  as  though  some 
one  had  been  rolHng  him  in  a  sewer. 

"  '  I'm  the  Fourth  Engineer,'  I  said.  '  Oh,  are 
ye,'  says  he,  'I  thought  ye  were  comin'  this  mornin'. 
Better  get  a  boiler-suit  on  and  give  a  hand.  We're 
goin'  to  sea  to-morrow  noon.' 

''  He  took  me  along  the  alleyway  and  unlocked  a 
door.  *  There,'  says  he,  *  there's  your  room.  Ye 
share    wi'    the    Third.'     It    was    a    smelly    httle 


ALIENS  155 

hole,  and  so  dark  I  could  scarcely  make  out  the 
bunks. 

"  I  haven't  a  boiler-suit  with  me/'  I  said,  and  he 
looked  at  me.  He  was  a  younger  man  than  I  was, 
and  I  felt  it  would  be  strange  to  have  to  take 
orders  from  him.  '  Oh,'  he  says,  '  you're  about 
my  size,  I'll  lend  you  one.'  I  couldn't  help  think- 
ing as  he  went  into  his  berth  next  to  ours,  that  if 
he  was  the  Second  and  I  was  the  Fourth,  what  on 
earth  would  /  be  Hke  when  we  got  to  sea  ? 

"  And  then  he  took  me  down  below. 

*'  That  was  my  introduction  to  my  new  career. 
No  handshakes,  no  good  night's  rest — nothing.  I 
got  into  the  Second's  boiler-suit  and  followed  him 
down.  We  had  to  work  all  night.  The  Third  was 
down  there  all  the  time  under  the  boilers.  He  was 
an  old  chap  ;  must  have  been  sixty,  with  a  mous- 
tache that  was  dirty  brown  at  the  tips  and  grey  at 
the  roots,  and  a  crease  down  each  of  his  cheeks  that 
was  always  twitching  while  he  chewed.  He  was 
lying  on  his  side  in  a  puddle  of  water,  a  slush  lamp 
close  to  his  head,  working  a  ratchet-drill  into  the 
shell  of  the  boiler.  I  had  to  crawl  in  alongside  of 
him  and  help  him.  Me!  And  I'd  been  writing 
*  fitters'  instructions  '  in  the  office  for  three  years. 
It  was  a  come-down. 

*'  And  yet,  something  inside  of  me  responded  to 
the  call.  Say  it  was  romance  if  you  hke,  say  it  was 
sentiment,  say  it  was  just  fooHshness.  Something 
inside  of  me  answered  to  the  call.  We  worked  all 
that  night,  patching  that  bad  plate  on  the  boiler. 


156  ALIENS 

The  other  boilers  were  under  steam,  so  you  can 
beheve  it  was  hot  down  under  there.  My  hands 
were  all  soft  with  office  work,  and  in  the  first  few 
hours  I  got  cuts  all  over  them,  and  the  salt  of  the 
boiler- seams  got  into  them  and  made  them  raw. 
What  a  time  it  was  !  It  wasn't  long  before  I  was 
as  dirty  as  the  rest  of  them.  I  forgot  all  about 
time  or  food  or  sleep  ;  just  fetched  and  carried  as 
I  was  told.  Once  the  Second,  who  was  screwing 
the  holes  we  drilled,  asked  me  if  I  had  been  to  sea 
before.  I  said  '  No,'  and  both  of  them  said  '  Oh 
Lord  !  '  I  can't  blame  them  now.  IVe  said  it 
myself  since,  when  IVe  found  a  new  starter  on  my 
hands. 

"  The  Chief  came  down  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  looked  through  the  hole  in  the  boiler 
casing.  He  was  a  Uttle  man  with  a  glass  eye. 
'  Is  the  Fourth  there  ?  '  he  says,  sucking  at  his 
pipe.  '  Yes,'  I  said,  and  he  raps  out,  *  Yes  what  ?  ' 
Humph  ! 

''  When  the  patch  was  on  we  had  to  get  the 
boiler  filled  and  the  fires  away  as  soon  as  we  could. 
I  tried  to  get  some  information  out  of  the  old 
Third,  but  he  just  chewed  and  spat.  When  I  asked 
the  Second  he  says,  '  Oh  Hell,  I  can't  stop  to  show 
ye  now.  Take  a  hand-lamp  and  go  and  see  the 
run  o'  the  pipes  yerself.'  I  was  nearly  dropping 
for  sheer  sleepiness,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  I 
would  not  give  in.  At  breakfast  time  the  Chief 
said  we'd  missed  a  tide  and  couldn't  get  away  till 
midnight,  and  I  thanked  God.     But  it's  a  funny 


ALIENS  157 

thing  about  a  steamer,  that  the  more  time  you  have 
the  more  work  there  is  to  do.  We  had  stores  to^ 
get  stowed  away,  and  as  soon  as  that  was  done  a 
steam-pipe  spHt  on  the  fore- deck  and  we  had  to  go 
in  the  rain  and  patch  it.  I  didn't  know  where 
things  were ;  I  didn't  know  the  names  of  things ; 
I  didn't  know  how  they  should  be  done.  I'd  been 
a  gentleman  for  six  years,  never  soihng  my  hands 
except  to  clean  my  bicycle.  When  the  Second 
said  to  me  at  tea-time,  '  You'd  better  knock  of! 
and  turn  in.  You'll  be  on  watch  to-night,'  I  began 
to  realize  what  I  was  in  for.  I  sat  on  the  settee  in 
our  room  and  tried  to  think.  No  wonder  my  old 
shell-back  uncle  had  laughed.  My  clothes  were 
lying  all  round.  I  had  no  bedding,  nor  sea- gear, 
and  I  didn't  know  where  to  get  it.  Suddenly  the 
door  opened  and  the  Chief  came  in. 

"  '  Haven't  you  a  letter  for  me  ?  '  he  says.  I  gave 
it  to  him.  '  Captain  Carville's  nephew,  I  see. 
Coming  for  a  trip,  or  are  you  going  to  stick  to  it  ?  ' 
I  looked  at  him. 

"  '  I'm  going  to  stick  to  it  if  it  kills  me,'  I  said. 
*  I'm  here  for  keeps.'  He  nodded.  He  liked 
that. 

"  '  Got  any  gear  ? '  he  says.  I  said, '  I've  got  noth- 
ing except  an  extra  suit  and  some  pyjamas.' 

"  He  told  me  to  get  washed  and  go  ashore  and  buy 
some  bedding.  '  I  don't  know  how  you'll  get  on 
with  that  old  Third,'  he  says.  '  The  last  Fourth 
left  because  of  him.' 

*' '  I'm  not  going  to  leave,  sir,'  I  said.     I  wasn't 


158  ALIENS 

going  back  for  anybody.  I  was  going  to  find  out 
something  about  life,  right  away  from  everybody 
I'd  ever  known. 

"  '  Bully  for  you,'  says  he,  and  with  that  he  went 
away.  I  went  ashore  and  bought  myself  some 
gear,  and  by  the  time  I  got  back  it  was  eight  o'clock 
by  my  watch. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  that  night.  I'd  meant  to 
write  my  mother  and  uncle  and  tell  them  I  was 
all  right,  but  I  was  too  tired  and  worried.  The  old 
Third  came  aboard  at  ten  o'clock  with  a  skinful, 
and  the  Second  was  rushing  round  cursing  me  be- 
cause there  was  nobody  else  to  curse.  The  firemen 
were  drunk  and  the  donkey-man  was  drunk.  And 
at  eleven-fifteen  the  gong  sounded  for  slow-astern. 
I  stood  by  the  telegraph  and  worked  the  handle, 
and  do  what  I  would  I  kept  shutting  my  eyes.  My 
God !  I  thought,  shall  I  ever  sleep  again  ?  The 
old  Third  stood  near  me,  his  eyes  all  bloodshot, 
the  crease  in  his  cheek  working,  his  dyed  mous- 
tache all  draggled,  his  breath — Humph !  He  was 
cunning  enough  to  pretend  he  was  all  right,  help- 
ing the  Second  with  the  reversing  gear.  Now  and 
again  the  Chief  would  come  down  and  give  an  order,. 
his  glass  eye  fixing  me  in  a  queer  way.  I  never 
got  used  to  that  glass  eye.  It  wasn't  part  of  him, 
so  to  speak,  and  it  distracted  one's  attention. 
The  Chief  himself  would  be  talking  quite  friendly 
to  you,  when  you  would  suddenly  catch  sight  of 
that  glass  eye  glaring  at  you,  full  of  undying  and 
unreasonable   hate.     He    would   be   roaring   with 


ALIENS  159 

laughter  at  some  joke,  while  all  the  time  the  glass 
eye  seemed  to  be  calculating  a  cold-blooded  murder.v 
It  was  strange  enough  in  its  socket ;  but  I  tell  you, 
when  I  ran  up  to  call  him  for  a  hot  bearing  one 
night  and  he  looked  across  at  me  with  one  bright 
blue  eye  and  the  other  bloody-red  and  sunken, 
and  I  saw  the  glass  thing  staring  at  me  from  the 
dressing  table — Humph  ! 

"  At  last,  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we 
were  outside,  and  he  sent  me  up  to  see  if  the  pilot 
had  gone.  Just  as  I  stumbled  up  on  the  bridge- 
deck  I  saw  the  pilot  going  over  the  side,  down  a 
rope  ladder.  Oh,  didn't  I  wish  I  was  going  with 
him  !     She  was  beginning  to  roll,  you  see. 

"  And  yet,  though  I  was  in  the  depths,  so  to 
speak,  up  to  the  eyes  in  it,  as  I  stood  there  in  the 
rain  and  wind,  the  sweat  bitter  cold  on  my  body, 
I  saw  the  coast-wise  Hghts,  and  realised  with  a 
sudden  jump  of  the  heart  what  I  was  doing.  I  was 
out  at  sea.  And  I'd  been  born  at  sea.  Twenty- 
six  years  in  cotton- wool !  Can  you  reahze  what  I 
had  done  ?  Somewhere  inside  of  me  there  was 
something  answering  the  call.  I  was  going  back 
through  toil  and  sorrow  to  my  own.  I  was  away  at 
last.  I  went  down  again  into  the  engine-room  and 
told  them  that  the  pilot  was  gone.  The  Second 
says,  '  Get  yourself  turned  in,  then.' 

"  I  could  have  put  my  head  on  his  shoulder  and 
cried  for  joy  ! 

"  Well,  I've  said  enough  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
the  sudden  turn  in  my  fortunes.     A  week  ago  I 


160  ALIENS 

was  in  love,  and  comfortably  tucked  away  inside 
a  cozy  corner  of  the  professional  class.  My  brother 
was  a  mysterious  prodigal.  Suddenly  he  butts  in, 
and  all  is  changed.  He's  snug  and  safe  in  a  good 
berth,  he's  taken  up  the  tale  of  his  girls  just  where 
he  left  off,  and  I'm  out  at  sea,  Fourth  Engineer  of 
a  rusty  old  freighter  bound  for  a  place  I'd  never 
heard  of :  Port  Duluth,  British  Namaqualand. 
Well,  let  him  marry  her  and  be  hanged  !  I  thought ; 
I'm  out  of  that  world.  I  was  resolved  not  to  go 
near  London  town  till  I'd  worked  out  my  proba- 
tion on  the  Corydon.  I  saw  that  I  was  back  in  the 
Third  Form  at  school  again.  I  saw  that  my  ship- 
mates knew  nothing  about  culture  or  public  schools 
or  art  or  gentility.  I  saw  they  knew  their  business, 
and  if  I  would  be  wilHng  and  quick  to  jump,  they 
would  teach  it  to  me.  My  only  real  trouble  was 
that  old  Third.  If  he'd  only  been  a  little  cleaner  in 
his  habits  !  He  would  lie  on  the  settee  when  he 
was  off  watch,  the  creases  in  his  cheeks  twisting, 
his  blood-shot  old  eyes  fixed  on  the  toes  of  his  red 
sHppers  and  then — biff  ! — he  would  spit  on  the 
floor.  But  even  that  I  could  have  stood  if  he'd 
been  more  cheerful.  He  never  smiled,  only  creased 
his  cheeks  a  little  deeper.  In  time  I  learned  why 
the  last  Fourth,  a  gay  young  spark  of  twenty -two, 
had  fled  out  of  the  ship.  This  old  Third,  old 
Croasan  his  name  was,  didn't  care  what  happened 
to  him.  His  children  were  grown  up  and  run 
away  ;  he  was  too  ignorant  to  get  a  certificate,  and 
he  was  just  waiting  for  a  ship  to  go  to  the  bottom 


ALIENS  161 

and  take  him  with  her.  When  the  Second  told  me 
that  I  didn't  beHeve  him.  I  held,  as  most  people 
hold,  that  even  a  man  a  hundred  years  of  age  will 
fight  Hke  a  tom-cat  for  his  Hfe.  But  I  found  that 
the  Second  was  right ! 

"  We  struck  bad  weather  as  soon  as  we  got  into 
the  Bay.  The  Corydon  was  loaded  to  her  summer 
draught  and  here  was  a  westerly  gale  coming  on  her 
bow,  and  later  on  her  beam.  She  rolled  day  and 
night,  shipping  big  seas  all  the  time.  This  rolling 
washed  the  bilge  water  up  on  the  plates  in  the 
stoke  hold  and  lifted  them,  so  that  the  small  Welsh 
coal,  like  the  Lehigh  stuff  you  get  here,  was  washed 
into  the  limber  and  choked  the  pump  suctions. 
Very  soon  the  bilge  began  to  fill.  The  old  ship  was 
leaking  like  a  basket  any  way,  and  she  took  a  heavy 
list  to  port.  All  my  watch  that  night,  from  eight 
o'clock  till  twelve,  I  was  on  those  bilge -pumps 
trying  to  make  them  draw,  while  the  Chief  looked 
after  the  engines.  It  was  no  joke,  with  her  listed 
over  like  that,  the  platform  under  water  and  green 
seas  coming  down  through  the  skyHghts.  I 
thought  of  my  pleasant  home  at  Oakleigh  Park  then, 
the  quiet  autumn  streets,  the  bright  fire  in  the 
dining-room  and  the  cosy  warm  bed.  Oh  yes,  I 
thought  of  it,  but  not  with  regret.  I  was  out  to 
win  through,  and  all  hell  wouldn't  have  made  me 
desert  ! 

"  At  twelve  o'clock  it  was  pretty  serious.  The 
Chief  had  the  Second  out  to  help  with  the  pumps 
and  sent  me  to  call  the  old  Third.     It  was  his 

L 


162  ALIENS 

watcli  on  tlie  main  engines,  you  see,  twelve  to  four. 
Our  berth  was  flooded.  There  was  a  couple  of 
inches  of  water  on  the  floor,  and  at  every  sea  the 
water  flew  through  the  leaky  joints  of  the  dead- 
lights, all  over  old  Croasan.  To  and  fro  on  the 
floor  my  slippers  were  floating  and  a  torn  magazine 
swam  into  the  room  from  the  alley-way  as  I  opened 
the  door.'  The  oil  from  the  lamp  was  dripping  on 
to  the  drawer  tops,  and  every  time  she  gave  a 
deeper  roll  the  light  flared.  I  put  the  magazine 
under  it  to  catch  the  drip,  and  as  I  did  so  I  caught 
sight  of  a  picture  in  it,  a  picture  of  two  men  stand- 
ing on  the  deck  of  a  ship  in  a  storm.  Under- 
neath were  the  words,  '  I  think  she's  sinking.' 
Curious,  wasn't  it  ?  That's  just  what  I  thought. 
I  turned  to  old  Croasan.  He  lay  in  his  bunk  just 
as  he  had  come  off  watch  at  six  o'clock,  his  dun- 
garees shining  with  grease,  his  tattooed  arms  grey 
with  dirt.  He  looked  eighty  years  old  as  he  lay 
there  with  his  bald  head  against  the  bottle  rack, 
the  pouches  under  his  eyes  marking  dark  shadows 
on  his  creased  cheeks.  I  shook  him,  and  he  opened 
his  eyes  for  a  second.  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was 
doing,  I  was  so  crazy  with  sickness  and  bruises 
and  incessant  toil.  '  Mr.  Croasan,'  I  shouted  at 
him.  '  Eh  ! '  says  he,  without  opening  his  eyes. 
'  Oh,'  I  said,  '  I — I  think  she's  sinking.'  He 
opened  his  eyes  for  about  two  seconds  and  then  said 
to  me  in  a  terrible  voice  just  as  a  big  sea  crashed 
over  our  heads  and  the  ports  spurted,  '  Let  her  sink 
and  be  damned  ! '  he  says  and  never  stirred.     I  left 


ALIENS  163 

him  there.  I  ran  back  to  the  engine  room.  I  felt 
I  couldn't  stay  and  argue  the  point  with  a  man 
who  would  not  make  a  fight  for  us,  for  himself. 

"  The  Chief  decided  to  cut  holes  in  the  suction 
pipe  just  under  the  water-line.  Then  when  the 
pumps  sucked  them  clear,  we  bound  them  up  with 
jointing  and  cut  more  holes  lower  down.  Oh  !  it 
was  grand  !  For  fourteen  hours  we  went  on  doing 
that,  up  to  our  shoulders  in  the  bilge,  the  grease 
caking  on  us  in  a  fresh  layer  every  time  we  climbed 
out  to  get  something  in  the  store.  The  weather 
eased  a  little  off  Finisterre  and  we  got  her  righted. 
We  went  up  to  the  Chief's  room  to  have  a  nip  of 
whisky. 

"  '  Ye  see,'  said  the  Second.  '  Ye  see,  mister, 
there's  some  as  dinna  care.' 

''  Old  Croasan  came  out  of  the  bunk  when  the 
trouble  was  over.  I  felt  too  proud  of  what  Fd  been 
through  to  be  hard  on  the  poor  old  chap,  proud  of 
being  in  the  thick  of  it.  I  was  seeing  Hfe  at  last. 
This  was  what  Fd  come  for.  '  Ah,'  says  the 
Chief,  his  glass  eye  fixing  me  over  his  whisky  glass, 
*  you'll  be  marked  if  you  stay  on  the  Corydon.' 

*'  I  was.  It  took  that  old  box  of  misfortune 
thirty- two  days  to  make  Port  Daluth.  Every  day 
we  had  some  breakdown  or  other.  She  was  Hke  a 
good  many  other  ships  that  fly  the  Eed  Ensign, 
worn  out.  But  did  I  grumble  ?  Not  on  your  hfe. 
I  looked  at  it  as  any  man  will  who's  got  sand  in 
him.  It  was  a  fight.  There  was  no  fighting  in 
Victoria  Street ;    it  was  simply  riding  through  Hfe 


164  ALIENS 

on  rubber  tyres.  Books,  art,  comfort,  philosophy, 
all  these  things  are  well  enough ;  but  the  Corydon, 
the  rusty,  leaking,  treacherous  old  Corydon,  with 
her  starting  rivets  and  banging  old  engines,  she 
was  the  real  thing,  the  thing  to  mark  a  man  and 
teach  him  what  he's  made  of. 

''  Four  voyages  I  made  in  her,  each  one  worse 
than  the  first,  I  beHeve  ;  four  voyages  across  the 
line,  but  I  stuck  it  and  put  in  the  necessary  twelve 
months'  service  for  my  certificate.  I  only  wrote 
short  letters  to  my  mother,  just  to  let  her  know  I 
was  aUve  and  fit.  I  was  saving  money  and  looking 
forward  to  a  spell  in  London.  All  the  other  people 
I  knew  I  let  go.  I  reaHzed  I  had  only  been  an 
ahen  in  that  genteel  professional  world. 

"  And  so,  one  day,  a  year  after  I'd  set  foot  on  the 
deck  of  that  old  ship,  I  said  good-bye  to  the  men 
I'd  sailed  with  and  took  the  train  to  Paddington. 
How  strange  I  felt  I  can't  explain.  As  the  cab 
took  me  down  the  famiUar  streets  and  I  saw  the  old 
famihar  sights,  I  felt — well,  you'll  know  when  you 
go  back  !  Something  had  snapped.  I  was  in  it, 
but  not  of  it.  I  saw  the  young  men  walking  in  the 
streets,  with  their  high  collars  and  nice  clothes, 
their  newspapers  and  walking-sticks  and  gloves. 
What  did  they  know  ?  I'd  been  like  that,  just  as 
ignorant,  just  as  conceited  and  narrow-minded. 
And  I  thought  of  the  Corydon  and  the  blue  tropic 
sea  ! 

"  I  took  a  room  at  a  hotel  and  went  out  to  see  my 
mother.    I  did  this  as  a  duty,  mind  you.     If  my 


ALIENS  165 

brother  was  there  still  I  had  no  intention  of  staying 
long.  There  was  no  room  for  the  two  of  us  in  the 
same  house.  And  of  course,  I  had  a  great  desire 
to  know  if  they  were  married.     Humph  ! 

"  I  found  my  mother  living  alone.  He  was  gone 
again  !  She,  Gladys,  was  gone  too.  They  hadn't 
been  married,  not  a  bit  of  it.  He  never  had  any 
intention  of  marrying  her.  It  was  very  difficult 
to  get  the  actual  story  out  of  my  mother.  She 
didn't  know  much,  and  she  was  reluctant  to  tell 
me  even  that.  But  I  found  out  at  last  that  she, 
Gladys,  had  followed  him.  Nobody  knew  where. 
He  had  given  up  his  agency  and  started  on  a  tour 
for  some  patent  tyre  company.  And  she,  at  the 
Hfting  of  his  finger,  had  gone  after  him." 

Mr.  Carville  paused  and  looked  towards  a  figure 
coming  into  view  on  the  path.  It  was  Miss  Fraenkel. 
I  looked  at  my  watch.     It  was  twelve  o'clock. 

"  Miss  Fraenkel  is  coming  up  to  lunch,"  I  said  to 
Bill.    "  Will  you  join  us,  Mr.  Carville  ?  " 

He  stood  up  shaking  his  head  and  brushing  the 
tobacco  ash  from  his  vest. 

"  I'll  look  in  afterwards,"  he  said,  "  but  I  told 
the  wife  I'd  be  back  to  dinner.  Pig's  head  and 
cabbage,"  he  added,  smiKng. 

"  Where  was  she,  all  the  time,  Mr.  Carville  ?  " 
asked  Bill. 

He  laughed  and  stepped  down  from  the  porch. 

"I  will  tell  you  this  afternoon,"  he  said,  and 
reached  the  side-walk  as  Miss  Fraenkel  crossed  the 
street.    He  lifted  his  hat  absently  and  passed  on, 


tt 


166  ALIENS 

and  she,  pausing  for  a  moment,  gave  him  one  of 
those  swift  and  searching  glances  with  which  her 
country-women  are  wont  to  appraise  us.  She  came 
on  up  to  us. 

Why   didn't   you   come   sooner  ?  "   said   Bill, 

weVe  been  expecting  you.'' 

I've    been    getting    signatures,"    she    repHed. 

Is  that  him  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He's  coming  back  after  lunch." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  that  I  want  to  get  his  wife  to 
join  ?  " 

We  were  silent.  We  had  forgotten  all  about 
]\Iiss  Fraenkel's  suffrage.  She  scanned  our  faces 
with  an  eager  look  in  her  hazel  eyes.  I  made  an 
efiort. 

"  We  thought,"  I  said,  "  we  thought  that  perhaps 
you  would  be  able  to  explain  better  than  we  could 
how " 

"  Why,  what  have  you  been  talking  about,  then  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  We  haven't  been  talking,"  I  repHed,  looking  at 
the  Httle  brass  pilgrim  on  the  door.  "  We've  been 
Hstening." 

And  then  we  went  in  to  lunch. 


CHAPTER  IX 

We  Await  Developments 

If  it  were  necessary  to  epitomise  our  attitude 
towards  Mr.  Carville  during  that  lunch,  it  might 
perhaps  be  discovered  in  the  one  word  "  doubt." 
Without  accusing  him  of  intentional  deception, 
he  had  certainly  led  us  to  beHeve  that  he  would 
explain  to  us  the  many  points  of  interest  which 
his  previous  history  had  raised.  We  had  felt 
quite  sure  that  in  the  course  of  the  morning  we 
should  learn  of  his  meeting  with  his  wife  and  the 
reasons  which  led  them  to  make  their  home  in 
the  United  States.  We  expected  to  have  the 
mystery  of  the  prodigal  brother  co-ordinated  with 
the  painter- cousin's  story.  We — but  of  what  avail 
was  it  to  grumble  ?  He  had  set  out  to  tell  his  tale 
in  his  own  way  and  it  was  only  right  that  we  should 
permit  him  to  do  so. 

In  one  thing  I  agreed  with  Bill  and  differed  from 
Mac — the  question  of  "  Gladys." 

"  So  her  name's  '  Gladys '  ?  "  said  he,  when  he 
had  brought  Miss  Fraenkel's  knowledge  up  to  date. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Bill.     "  Oh,  no  !  " 

"  He  said  so,"  persisted  her  husband. 


168  ALIENS 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  so  far  he  has  not  mentioned 
Mrs.  Carville." 

He  came  round  to  our  view  in  the  end,  when  I 
reminded  him  of  the  scaldino.  Personally,  the 
idea  was  incredible.  When  I  thought  of  Mrs. 
Carville  bending  over  the  brazier,  of  her  dark, 
noble  face  with  its  large  tragic  eyes,  and  then  of 
the  smart  convent-bred  miss  who  was  called 
Gladys— absurd ! 

Miss  Fraenkel  remained  faithful  to  her  mission 
throughout  the  meal,  and  enhsted  our  sympathy 
by  recounting  the  struggles  of  Mrs.  Wederslen  to 
capture  the  league  for  her  own  social  purposes. 
It  was  an  old  story,  this  of  the  ambition  of  Mrs. 
Wederslen.     Mrs.  Wederslen  seemed  to  think  that 
in  a  community  of  artists  the  art- critic's  wife  is 
queen.     Mrs.   Williams  had  rebelled  against  this, 
and    there    was    tension    between    them.      Mrs. 
Wederslen  had  even  made  the  insane  experiment 
of  trying  to  patronise   Bill.     There  had  been  a 
meeting,  a  few  words  on  each  side,  and  the  rest 
was  silence.     Without  any  definite  verbal  informa- 
tion on  the  point,  Mac  and  I  knew  that  BilFs 
tongue  would  be  stilled  in  death  ere  she  would 
speak  charitably  of  Mrs.  Wederslen.     And  here  was 
Miss   Fraenkel' s   piquant   features   aglow   with   a 
flush  of  indignation  and  her  hazel   eyes   aflame 
with  ladylike  resentment,  because  that  imperious 
woman  was  endeavouring  to  assert  her  sovereignty 
over    the    league.     In    the    great    problems    thus 
raised  it  seemed  hkely  that  the  smaller  matter 


ALIENS  169 

of  Mrs.  Carville's  allegiance  might  be  swamped, 
I  endeavoured  to  bring  this  discussion  into  align- 
ment with  my  own  imaginings,  a  common  human 
weakness. 

"  But  perhaps  she's  like  me,  hasn't  got  a  vote," 
said  Bill. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Fraenkel,  "  she  may  have 
some  day.  And  anyhow,  the  great  thing  is  to 
spread  the  hght  in  dark  places.  We  want 
every  woman  to  know  her  power.  Mrs.  Weder- 
slen " 

She  began  again.  Mrs.  Wederslen  had  done 
the  one  thing  needful  to  rouse  Miss  Fraenkel's 
feehngs  towards  her  to  the  temperature  of  Bill's : 
she  had  expressed  her  opinion  that  civil  servants 
should  be  debarred  from  pohtical  activity.  In 
spite  of  my  efforts,  the  conversation  became 
sectional.  Mac  motioned  me  to  join  him  on  the 
porch  for  a  smoke. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  he  said,  when  he  had 
hghted  up. 

"  The  time  is  past  for  imaginative  forecasts," 
I  rephed.  "  It  is  obvious  that  Mr.  Carville,  having 
been  tremendously  interested  in  his  own  Hfe,  is 
determined  to  tell  us  all  about  it.  Before  lunch 
I  hardly  knew  what  to  think,  but  now  I  feel  fairly 
certain  that  he  will  bring  us  safely  to  the  con- 
clusion." 

"  There  never  is  a  conclusion  to  stories  in  real 
life,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  you  know  what  I  mean.     He'll  account 


170  ALIENS 

for  the  facts  as  we  see  them,  anyhow.     His  wife, 
his  brother,  his  hving  here,  and  so  on." 

"  And  Gladys,"  added  Mac. 

"  Ah !     I  expect  we've  heard  the  last  of  Gladys.  ^' 
She  was  evidently  an  early  flame,  since  gone  out." 
I  struck  a  match. 

"  I  say,  old  man." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  What  a  tale  his  brother  could  tell,  eh  ?  " 

"  Possibly ;  but  perhaps  his  brother  has  not 
the  faculty,"  I  said. 

"  No.     Here  he  comes  !  " 

Mr.  Carville  appeared  on  the  sidewalk,  his 
Derby  hat  on  his  head,  his  corn-cob  in  his  mouth. 
For  a  moment  he  turned,  and,  looking  back, 
flung  out  his  hand  with  a  gesture  expressive  of- 
petulance  and  dismissal  towards  an  invisible 
person  at  his  door.  And  then  he  came  towards  us 
sedately,  caressing  his  pipe,  eyes  on  the  ground, 
and  seated  himself  in  the  Fourth  Chair  in  silence. 

"  I  was  wondering,"  he  said  at  last,  ''  if  after  all 
you'd  just  as  soon  I  didn't  tell  you  all  this  about 
myself  and  got  right  on  to  my  married  hfe.     Eh  ?  " 

"  Speaking  for  myself,"  I  said  hastily,  "  no ! 
Please  tell  your  story  as  you  have  it  in  your  mind. 
Don't  edit  it.     Fll  do  that." 

He  gave  me  one  of  his  quick  looks  and  smiled. 

"  Eight !  "  he  said,  and  shook  himself  straight 
in  his  chair.  "  I'll  get  busy.  I've  got  to  get  the 
five  o'clock  train,  and  the  wife — she  said  she'd 
have  a  bit  of  tea  ready  for  me  at  four." 


I  ALIENS  171 

He  sat  at  tlie  far  end  of  the  verandah,  the 
furled  hammock  tickling  his  ears,  and  he  shifted 
the  chair  so  that  he  faced  north,  looking  towards 
-f  his  own  house.  As  he  opened  his  mouth  to  replace 
his  pipe,  Bill  opened  the  door  and  led  Miss  Fraenkel 
out  to  be  introduced. 

It  was  a  ceremonious  bow  with  which  Mr. 
Carville  greeted  her  as  he  rose.  He  did  not  offer 
to  shake  hands,  as  middle -class  people  generally 
do,  to  their  credit.  He  gave  her  one  square 
look  and  then  dropped  his  eyes,  and  I  couldn't 
detect  him  even  glancing  at  her  again.  He  seemed 
to  have  made  a  brief  examination  and  then  dis- 
missed her  from  his  memory. 

The  problem  of  chairs  was  instantly  solved  by 
Bill.  She  opened  the  window  and  she  and  Miss 
Fraenkel  sat  inside.  Mr.  Carville  studied  the  toe 
of  his  plain  serviceable  boot  while  these  arrange- 
ments were  being  carried  out.  He  sat  motionless 
in  the  Fourth  Chair,  and  I  could  not  help  feeling 
that  the  business  of  transferring  Miss  Fraenkel 
established  Mr.  Carville' s  inahenable  right  to  his 
seat. 

"  Full  speed  ahead  !  "  said  Mac  jocularly. 

"  I  ought  to  explain,"  said  Mr.  Carville,  "  that 
as  the  years  had  gone  by,  my  mother  and  I  had 
ceased  to  have  very  much  sympathy  with  each 
other's  way  of  thinking.  We  had  lived  together, 
as  was  natural,  but  we  had  gradually  lost  sight 
of  the  career  my  father  had  outlined  for  me.  And 
when  I  had  lost  my  job  in  Victoria  Street,  really 


172  ALIENS 

that  was  the  last  link  that  snapped.  I  had  no 
fancy  for  living  in  Oakleigh  Park,  especially  after 
what  had  happened  to  Gladys.  You  can  under- 
stand that. 

"  Another  thing.  I  had  become  in  a  small  way 
an  author.  Don't  imagine  that  I'm  setting  up 
myself  with  you,  sir.  Not  at  all.  I  understand, 
I  hope,  now,  the  difference  between  writing  a 
book  and  being  an  author.  It  was  this  way.  To 
me,  breaking  into  sea-life  so  sharp  and  sudden- 
like, there  were  many  things  I  noted  that  most 
men  would  never  heed.  I  don't  heed  them  myself 
now.  But  then  I  did.  And  in  port  on  Sundays, 
and  sometimes  at  sea  when  I  couldn't  sleep  on 
the  middle -watch,  I'd  jot  down  little  thumb- 
nail sketches,  you  might  call  them,  of  the  things 
I  saw.  '  Cameos  of  the  Sea,'  I'd  put  on  the  top. 
The  whole  thing  wasn't  as  long  as  some  of  the 
chapters  in  Gibbon's  '  Decline  and  Fall,'  and,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  had  no  great  opinion  of  them. 
I  only  mention  them  because  of  what  happened. 
I  had  the  sheets  tied  up  in  brown  paper  in  my 
sailor-bag. 

"  Well,  I  told  my  mother  I  wanted  to  live  in 
London  awhile,  and  as  I  needed  to  be  within 
reach  of  the  Board  of  Trade  Offices  until  I  had 
passed  my  exam.,  she  saw  no  good  reason  for 
objecting.  The  next  day,  as  I  was  walking  up  the 
Strand,  one  of  those  streets  in  London  that  I've 
never  seen  anywhere  else,  I  caught  sight  of  an 
old  gateway  at  the  end  of  a  passage.     There  was 


ALIENS  173 

a  date  1570  or  sometliing  as  old  on  the  arch,  and 
as  I  strolled  in  I  remembered  I'd  called  on  an 
architect  who  lived  there  in  the  old  days,  when 
I  was  in  Victoria  Street.  It  was  Clifford's  Inn. 
I  was  looking  round  at  the  old  houses  and 
wondering  if  I  could  hire  a  room  or  so  there, 
when  a  girl  came  down  one  of  the  stair- 
cases. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  recognize  her  at  first.  I  re- 
member wondering  why  she  jumped  back  when 
she  caught  sight  of  me.  '  Hullo  ! '  I  said,  '  what  are 
you  doing  here  ?  '  'I  live  here,'  she  said ;  and 
sure  enough  there  was  her  name  on  the  wall, 
bracketed  with  another  one  :  Miss  Gladys  Sanders 
and  Miss  Octavia  Flagg, 

"  '  You  ! '  I  said.  '  You  live  here  ?  '  She  nodded 
and  asked  me  if  I  would  come  up.  We  went  up 
the  dusty  old  stairs  to  the  top  floor,  and  she  took 
a  key  from  her  purse  and  opened  the  door.  I  felt 
there  was  something  pretty  brazen  about  all  this. 
This  wasn't  the  sort  of  thing  to  appeal  to  Oakleigh 
Park,  I  was  quite  sure,  and  said  so.  '  Oh,  I've 
done  with  Oakleigh  Park,'  she  said,  '  and  they've 
done  with  me.'  And  then  her  friend,  Miss  Flagg, 
came  in,  a  thin  woman  of  about  thirty -five,  with 
a  green  dress  and  rather  untidy  hair.  I  said  thin, 
but  so  was  Gladys.  It  almost  seemed  to  me, 
when  I'd  seen  them  a  few  times,  that  there  was 
some  fierce  fire  inside  of  those  women,  wearing 
them  thin  and  showing  through.  Neither  of  them 
were  beautiful ;   they  didn't  try  to  be.     They  just 


174  ALIENS 

lived  for — what  do  you  think  ?  I'll  tell  you  in  a 
minute. 

"  At  first  I  was  all  abroad  at  the  sudden  meet- 
ing. A  minute  before  Gladys  came  down  that 
staircase,  if  you'd  asked  me  whether  I  cared  for 
her  I'd  have  said  no  ;  it  was  all  burned  up  long 
ago.  But  now  I'd  seen  her  again,  thin  and  sallow 
and  changed  as  she  was,  it  had  all  come  back  with 
a  rush.  Do  you  know  that  kind  of  love  ?  It's 
because  of  the  way  it  rushes  back  on  you,  knocks 
you  down  and  tramples  on  you,  makes  you  feel 
mean  and  degraded  and  ashamed,  that  I  pray 
God  it  may  never  happen  on  me  again.  I  like 
to  think  a  man  may  never  have  it  but  for  one 
woman.  Sometimes,  away  out  East,  when  I've 
been  drowsing  in  a  hammock,  listening  to  the 
sweat  dripping  on  the  deck  and  watching  the  blue 
hills  in  the  distance,  it  has  come  upon  me.  Some- 
times in  dreams  I've  seen  her  face  clearer  than 
I  ever  saw  it  in  life.  .  .  .  You  know  them,  per- 
haps ?  .  .  .  Dreams  so  vivid  that  one's  brain  and 
body  ache  with  the  pain  of  it  ?     Ah  !  " 

He  paused  and  none  offered  to  speak.  I  sat 
facing  him  in  some  astonishment.  There  was  to 
me  something  fundamentally  shockuig  in  a  man 
making  such  a  confession.  If  it  had  been  dark 
so  that  the  words  floated  to  us  invisibly  ;  but  in 
broad  day !  Perhaps  more  convincingly  than 
anything  else  did  this  impress  upon  my  mind 
Mr.  Carville's  dehberate  intention  to  fashion  for 
us  a  tale  from  the  agony  of  his  Hfe,  to  give  us, 


ALIENS  175 

with  such  art  as  he  possessed,  a  picture  of  an 
obscure  and  ahen  romance. 

"  Miss  Flagg,  it  seems,  was  a  journaHst,  and 
Gladys — ^well,  she  was  a  journaHst  too,  I  suppose. 
From  what  she  told  me  I  gathered  she  did  transla- 
tions for  different  agencies,  and  earned  a  Httle 
that  way.  When  I  told  them  what  Fd  come  in 
for,  they  said  there  was  a  flat  in  Serjeant's  Inn 
just  round  the  corner,  which  was  to  be  let 
furnished.  I  told  them  I  was  going  in  for  an 
exam,  and  afterwards  I  was  going  to  take  my 
Httle  papers  to  a  pubHsher.  Miss  Flagg  Ht  up 
like  a  bonfire  at  this,  and  says  she,  '  Tm  a 
Hterary  agent.  Do  let  me  read  it ;  I  may  be  able 
to  place  it.' 

"  I  looked  at  her.  To  my  mind  she  didn't 
seem  the  sort  of  woman  who  would  understand 
the  things  Fd  been  writing  about ;  old  Croasan 
and  the  Chief  with  the  glass  eye,  the  firemen  and 
all  the  rest  of  them.  However,  I  said  I'd  let  her 
have  it  if  she  Hked.  Gladys  looked  at  me  when  I 
came  out  as  an  author.  She'd  never  had  any 
opinion  of  me,  you  see.  She  liked  clever  people, 
people  with  flash  and  ghtter,  who  could  dance 
and  talk  with  a  spatter  about  everything — Hke 
my  brother.  You  can  believe  I  wanted  to  know 
why  she'd  left  him,  if  she'd  ever  gone  to  him. 
I  said,  *  I  thought  you  were  going  out  when  I  saw 
you,'  and  she  took  the  hint.  We  went  down  again 
and  out  into  the  Strand. 

** '  Is   it   any  use  ?  '  I  said,  and   the   big  Law 


176  ALIENS 

Courts'   clock  boomed  out  over   our  heads.     It 

\  sounded  like  NO  in  my  ears. 

..].     "  She  shook  her  head.     '  Quite  impossible/  she 
said.     '  Well,  where's  Frank  ?  '  I  asked  her. 

"  She  didn't  know.  He'd  dropped  her  just  the 
same  as  he  dropped  anything  else  he  had  no  use  for, 
without  a  word.  And  I  think  it  was  shame  more 
than  because  she  didn't  care  for  me  that  made 
her  say  it  was  impossible.  I  don't  know — what 
is  a  woman's  pride,  anyhow  ?  See  how  he'd  treated 
her  ;  worse  than  I'd  treat  my  dog.  And  yet  when 
he  came  back,  flush  with  money  and  with  flash 
friends,  and  he  hfted  his  hand,  she  ran  to  him, 
ran  !     Explain  it  if  you  can.     I  can't. 

"  That  was  later.  I  got  my  flat  and  passed  my 
exam,  all  right,  and  my  uncle  in  Fenchurch  Street 
said  I  could  have  a  job  as  soon  as  I  Hked.  But 
I  thought  I'd  wait  a  bit.  I  was  seeing  London 
from  a  fresh  angle,  you  might  say  ;  seeing  it  as 
an  outsider,  as  an  ahen.  I  had  about  a  hundred 
pounds  to  spend,  and  in  a  modest  quiet  way  I 
enjoyed  myself.  The  razzle-dazzle  of  London 
doesn't  appeal  to  a  man  much,  when  he's  been 
on  the  bend  in  seaports.     Humph  ! 

"  And  Miss  Flagg  took  my  manuscript  and  went 
crazy  about  it.  She  said  she  sat  up  all  night  to 
read  it.  Knowing  what  I  do  of  women  now,  I 
think  she  was  a  liar.  Besides,  anyone  could  read 
it  in  two  or  three  hours.  The  point  is  she  told 
the  pubhsher  that  He,  and  he  believ  3d  it.  Her 
enthusiasm  was  contagious.     He  said  it  was  fine, 


ALIENS  177 

and  gave  me  ten  pounds  for  it.  Miss  Flagg  said 
it  was  a  generous  offer  and  raked  off  a  sovereign 
for  her  commission.  I  often  wonder  how  authors 
bear  up  under  such  generosity.  But  of  course 
I  know  nothing  about  the  business  side  of  it. 
Only  for  a  short  time  did  I  get  bitten  about  the 
idea  of  being  an  author.  I  found  I  had  nothing 
to  say.  Miss  Flagg  told  me  she  knew  a  man  who 
'  did  fiction  '  at  the  rate  of  twenty  thousand  words 
a  week.  She  might  have  lied,  but  then,  how  do  I 
know  ?  Anyway,  I  saw  it  wasn't  in  my  line — 
*  fiction.' 

*'  You  see,  when  I  went  to  their  flat  and  met  their 
literary  friends  and  heard  them  talking  about  their 
work,  1  felt  out  of  it.  I  was  an  aHen  in  their 
world.  I  had  no  interest  in  the  details  of  book- 
writing.  I'd  just  put  down  what  happened  to 
come  into  my  mind.  I  wondered  what  they 
wrote  about.  Love,  I  suppose.  I'd  sit  and  look 
about  me  and  try  to  imagine  what  those  people 
would  have  thought  of  the  old  Corydons  engine- 
room.  Humph  !  Do  you  know  what  those  thin, 
half-fed  men  and  women  thought  the  most  im- 
portant thing  in  the  world  ?  Not  husbands  and 
wives  and  children,  not  war,  nor  even  courage  ; 
not  books  nor  pictures ;  nothing  of  this.  No  ; 
they  were  wearing  their  souls  out  clamouring  for 
a  Vote !  " 

We  sat  very  still.  You  could  have  heard  a  pin 
drop. 

*'  There  was  Gladys.     She  was  only  nineteen, 

M 


178  ALIENS 

and  ought  to  have  been  helping  her  mother  at 
home  ;  but  no,  she  was  emancipated,  as  she  called 
it.  Her  experience  with  my  brother  taught  her 
that  the  Vote  was  necessary.  Miss  Flagg  told  me 
that  unless  women  got  the  Vote  England  would 
drop  behind.  They  all  said  that.  To  me  it  was 
amazing.  It  showed  me  how  far  Td  travelled 
away  from  the  old  ideas.  It  angered  me  to  see 
women  acting  hke  that,  spoihng  themselves, 
making  themselves  ridiculous  and  ugly,  all  for 
that ! 

"  I'd  been  home  a  couple  of  months,  not  more, 
when  I  began  to  get  restless.  My  mother  asked 
me  why  I  didn't  get  a  job  on  shore.  But  I  couldn't 
see  myself  going  to  Victoria  Street  every  day,  clean 
collar  and  umbrella,  sitting  at  a  desk  dictating  silly 
little  letters  to  silly  little  people.  Those  who 
wanted  it  let  them  do  it.  I  went  to  my  uncle  and 
asked  for  a  job.  His  eyes  twinkled  when  he 
said,  '  Well,  the  Corydon's  chartered  for  the 
Mediterranean,  and  they  want  a  Second.' 

"  '  When  shall  I  join  ?  '  I  said. 

"  '  Oh,  I  was  only  joking,'  says  he.  *  We'll  get 
you  a  better  ship  than  that  now.' 

"  '  No,'  I  said,  '  I'll  go  back  to  the  Corijdon.  I 
know  her  and  she  knows  me.  When  shall  I 
join  ?  '  " 

Again  Mr.  Carville  paused,  and  appeared  to  be 
lost  in  thought,  oblivious  of  our  presence.  An 
expression  of  gentle  earnestness  had  settled  upon 
his  face,   almost  melancholy.     I   imagined  for  a 


ALIENS  179 

moment  that  he  was  endeavouring  to  arrange  his 
thoughts. 

"  I  do  hope,"  he  remarked,  without  looking  at 
us,  "  I  do  hope  that  anything  I've  said  hasn't 
given  offence."  He  turned  to  us  with  a  sHght 
smile.  "  I  mix  up  so  little  with  genteel  people 
nowadays — you  see  ?  " 

I  nodded  vaguely,  and  he  relapsed  into  thought 
again. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  observed  presently,  "  as 
you  are  so  quiet,  I  might  have  said  something. 
I  remember  that  was  the  way  they  signified 
dissent,  so  to  speak.  And — I  wouldn't  hke  to 
ofiend — anybody." 

"  Pray  go  on,"  I  said.  "  We  are  not  genteel  in 
that  sense  of  the  word." 

It  was  plain  that,  apart  from  any  scruples  con- 
cerning our  gentiHty,  he  had  some  difficulty  in 
picking  up  the  thread  of  his  story.  It  was  a  rehef 
when  he  began  to  speak. 

"  I  come  now,"  he  said,  "  to  a  time  that  I  hardly 
know  how  to  describe.  The  next  few  years,  taken 
together,  were  my  Wanderjdlire.  You  know  Wil- 
helm  Meister,  of  course  ?  My  apprenticeship  was 
over,  but  I  wasn't  a  man  yet  for  all  that.  There's 
an  intermediate  stage,  what  we  engineers  call 
being  '  an  improver,'  in  a  man's  Kfe.  It  seems 
strange  that  I  should  speak  of  myself  so  at  twenty- 
seven,  but  there  it  is  ;  I  was  late  maturing.  Again, 
I  like  to  think  that  the  Dutch  are  right  when  they 
use  the  same  word  for  husband  and  man.     Until 


180  ALIENS 

lie  is  married  a  Dutchman  is  not  a  '  Man.'  That's 
how  I  looked  at  it ! 

"  When  I  rejoined  the  Cory  don,  the  Chief  said 
the  Second  was  going  to  stay  on  one  more  trip, 
but  old  Croasan  was  clearing  out  and  I  could  go 
Third.  I  wouldn't  mention  these  details,  only 
they  are  important,  because — well,  you'll  see. 

"Old  Croasan  was  going  ashore  when  I  joined. 
Didn't  even  shake  hands  with  the  Chief !  I 
thought  he  was  going  home  to  the  bonny  Scotland 
he  always  shouted  about  when  he  was  canned, 
but  the  Second  says,  '  Na,  na.  He'll  never  go 
back  to  Grangemouth,'  and  Chief  says,  '  He'll  get 
a  job  all  right,  all  right.'  Well,  I  was  busy  enough 
with  my  own  concerns,  and,  as  usual,  there  was 
a-plenty  to  do  on  the  Corydon  ;  but  one  evening 
I  was  up  at  Cully's  Hotel  talking  to  Miss  Bevan, 
when  in  walks  a  smart,  tidy-looking  man  of,  say, 
forty-five,  and  calls  for  a  bottle  of  Bass.  I  wouldn't 
have  given  him  more  than  a  passing  glance  if  he 
hadn't  looked  me  in  the  eye.  '  Eh,  lad,'  says  he. 
'  Will  ye  have  a  drink  ?  '  '  Croasan  ?  '  I  said. 
'  Ah,  it's  me,'  says  he.  '  Ah'm  away  the  morn 
in  yon  big  turret.' 

"  I  was  that  astonished  I  couldn't  reply,  and  he 
drank  up  his  beer  and  went  out  with  a  wave  of 
the  hand.  Miss  Bevan  asked  me  if  I  knew  him. 
'  Sure,'  I  said,  '  but  he  was  old  and  grey  three 
days  ago.'  It  was  my  first  experience  of  a  sea- 
faker.  He'd  been  up  to  Cardiff,  had  a  Turkish 
bath,   hair-cut   and   shave,   and  the   barber   had 


ALIENS  181 

dyed  his  hair  and  moustache.  Then  he'd  gone 
round  to  the  offices  and  eventually  got  a  job.  Of 
course,  the  first  green  sea  that  went  over  him 
would  add  twenty  years  to  his  age,  but  he'd  be 
signed  on  then.  The  Chief  laughed  when  I  told 
him.  '  And  you'll  see  him  in  Genoa,'  he  says ; 
'  yon  turret  steamer's  goin'  there  too.'  I  did  see 
him.  In  a  way,  he  introduced  me  to  my 
wife." 

Mr.  Carville  paused  and  struck  a  match.  Bill's 
j      head  appeared  at  the  window. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  "  I  thought  you  were  never 
coming  to  it !  " 

He  proceeded,  carefully  putting  the  burnt  match 
on  the  window-sill  and  blowing  great  clouds. 

"  The  run  to  Genoa  from  the  Tyne,"  he  said, 
"  takes  a  fortnight.  It  was  during  that  voyage 
that  I  began  to  see  how  I  stood  with  regard  to 
Gladys.  I  suppose  you  read  Ibsen  ?  I  used  to, 
on  the  Corydon,  and  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  his  plays,  in  my  opinion,  is  Lovers  Comedy. 
You  remember  the  moral  of  that  play  was  that  a 
man  should  never  marry  a  girl  he  is  madly  in  love 
with.  It  sounds  wicked  if  you  put  it  that  way, 
but  old  Ibsen  had  sand.  He  knew,  as  I  knew, 
that  a  young  man  may  be  in  love  with  a  girl  who 
is  not  suited  to  him.  He  knew  that  there  isn't 
much  difference  between  that  sort  of  love  and  hate. 
He  knew  that  you  can  have  a  contempt  for  a  girl 
and  her  ideals  and  yet  love  her.  That  sort  of  love 
is  Hke  those  big  thin  bowls  they  showed  me  in 


182  ALIENS 

Japan — beautiful,  expensive  and  awful  frail — no 
use  at  all  for  domestic  purposes.  I  thought  this 
out  on  the  voyage  to  Genoa,  and  put  Gladys,  so 
to  speak,  on  a  shelf,  where  she  is  now.  And  as  I 
thought  it  out,  I  saw  how  I  stood.  I  saw  I  was  not 
only  an  alien  wherever  I  went,  but  I  was  alone. 
I  began  to  be  afraid.  I  used  to  look  ahead  and 
tried  to  see  myself  in  twenty  years'  time,  alone. 
It  is  not  good  for  a  man  to  be  alone.  That's  how 
I  felt  when  we  reached  Genoa. 

"  Those  who  know  best  often  say  that  sailor - 
men  know  less  about  foreign  countries  than  many 
people  who  have  never  travelled.  I  daresay  that 
is  true  of  many  of  us.  It  is  very  likely  true  of 
any  uneducated  people  who  go  abroad.  Most  men 
who  go  to  sea  have  very  little  education.  They 
have  no  knowledge  of  their  own  country,  let  alone 
others.  To  a  certain  extent  I  was  different.  I 
had  always  wanted  to  see  Italy.  Years  before, 
when  I  was  in  Victoria  Street,  I  had  read  about 
her  history  and  art.  I  had  even  learned  a  Httle  of 
the  language.  And  so,  when  we  came  into  Genoa, 
and  I  saw  that  beautiful  city,  with  her  white 
palaces  and  green  domes  and  fort-crowned  hills, 
when  I  remembered  what  she'd  been,  and  saw 
what  she  was,  I  could  hardly  wait  till  nightfall  to 
go  ashore  and  see  it  all  at  once  ! 

"  Since  then  I've  been  to  nearly  every  port  in 
the  Mediterranean,  from  Gibraltar  to  Smyrna  and 
from  Marseilles  to  Tunis,  but  I  never  experienced 
anything  like  that  first  night  ashore  in   Genoa. 


ALIENS  183 

The  next  day  the  Chief  asked  me  where  I'd  been, 
and  I  told  him.  '  Why,'  he  says,  '  didn't  you  go 
into  the  ''  Isle  o'  Man  "  or  the  "  American  "  ? ' 
No,  I  hadn't  been  in  any  of  those  places.  He 
said  they'd  have  to  show  me  round. 

"  That  night  I  went  with  them,  leaving  the  new 
Fourth  in  charge,  and  I  learned  why  sailormen 
know  so  little  of  foreign  places.  All  along  the 
Front,  as  they  call  it,  were  scores  of  dirty  little 
bars  with  English  names.  I  wouldn't  mention 
them  at  all,  only  it  is  necessary  in  a  way,  as  you'll 
see.  We  went  into  several  and  had  a  drink, 
and  the  Chief  was  known  in  them  all.  Finally 
the  Chief  says, '  Let's  get  on  to  the  "  Isle  o'  Man,"  ' 
and  we  went  out  and  walked  along  the  Via  Milano 
a  little  further.  The  '  Isle  o'  Man '  was  rather 
bigger  than  most  of  these  places,  and  had  a  very 
comfortable  room  with  plush  settees  and  marble 
tables  shut  of!  from  the  main  cafe.  It  was  kept 
by  a  big,  heavy,  red-haired  woman,  about  fifty 
years  old,  who  came  in  and  sat  down  by  the  Chief 
and  talked  about  old  times.  I  found  she  was 
married  to  a  steward  in  the  Hamburg-American 
Line,  who  ran  this  show  on  the  side.  It  was  a 
mixed  company  in  there,  skippers  of  all  nations 
sitting  round  and  drinking ;  and  a  tall  young 
chap,  with  a  velvet  coat  and  long  hair,  was  playing 
a  piano  and  singing  songs.  After  every  song  he 
would  come  round  with  a  tin  saucer  and  collect 
pennies  from  us.  I  remember  thinking  how  strange 
he  looked.     He  had  a  noble  face,  I  should  call  it ; 


184  ALIENS 

he  looked  like  a  gentleman  and  spoke  like  one, 
and  there  he  was,  collecting  pennies !  I  was 
watching  him  coming  round  to  our  table  when 
a  girl  came  in,  a  tall,  dark  young  girl,  with  a  tray 
of  glasses.  '  Hullo  ! '  says  the  Chief,  '  that's  not 
Rosa,  is  it  ?  '  The  old  woman  nods  and  says, 
'  That's  Rosa  all  right.  Chief.'  And  he  called  out 
to  the  girl  to  come  over  to  us. 

"  She  came  at  once.  '  Here's  a  friend  o'  yours, 
Rosa,'  says  the  old  woman,  and  the  girl  looks  at 
the  Chief  and  smiles  a  little.  '  Why,  she  was  only 
so  high  last  time  I  was  here,'  says  the  Chief.  '  She 
has  shot  up.'  '  Yes,'  says  the  old  woman,  who 
was  called  Rebecca,  '  she'll  be  a  fine  woman  one 
o'  these  days.' 

"  They  told  me  about  her  as  we  went  back  to 
the  ship.  No  one  knew  who  her  parents  were. 
She  had  always  been  at  the  '  Isle  o'  Man,'  and  sailor- 
men  had  petted  her  because  she  was  a  nice  little 
thing  and  would  rap  out  a  bit  of  slang  without 
knowing  in  the  least  what  it  meant.  But  now, 
as  the  Chief  said,  it  was  a  different  matter.  She 
was  '  too  big  to  kiss  now.'  One  point  in  her 
history  I  was  very  interested  in,  and  that  was  the 
fact  that  neither  the  Chief  nor  anyone  else  I  ever 
heard  speak  of  her  ever  suggested  that  she  wasn't 
straight.  I  liked  that.  There  she  was,  living 
among  all  the  draggled,  dirty  seaport  crowd,  and 
yet  the  seafaring  men  that  took  their  drinks  from 
her  believed  she  was  straight. 

"  I   was   coming   down   from  the   theatre   one 


ALIENS  185 

night  about  a  week  later,  and  I  thought  I'd  look  in 
at  the  '  Isle  o'  Man '  for  a  drink  before  going 
aboard.  There  was  a  good  few  in  there,  Greek 
and  Norwegian  skippers ;  and  a  Belgian  engineer 
was  sitting  across  from  me  with  old  Croasan. 
The  piano  was  going  with  Little  Dolly  Daydreanij 
Pride  of  Idaho,  when  in  comes  Rosa  with  her  tray. 
To  get  past  she  had  to  squeeze  between  old 
Croasan' s  table  and  the  piano,  and  I  saw  him  take 
hold  of  her  waist.  She  was  hampered  by  the 
tray,  and  he  was  pulling  her  down  on  his  knee. 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  all  gallantry  that  made  me 
do  what  I  did.  I'd  never  been  a  whale  on  that 
sort  of  thing.  I'm  not  built  on  those  lines.  I 
think  it  was  a  feehng  that  has  always  possessed 
me  very  strongly  when  I  see  an  old  man  with  a 
young  woman — disgust.  To  me  it  is  a  horrible 
sight,  the  lu^t  of  an  old  man.  You  can  argue 
as  long  as  you  like,  but  that  is  one  of  my  fixed 
eternal  prejudices.  I  feel  sick  when  I  see  an  old 
man  giving  way  to  it.  I  feel  that  somehow  or 
other  he  is  debasing  humanity.  That  was  the 
real  reason  why  I  jumped  up  and  went  over  to 
Croasan. 

"  He  looked  up  at  me  as  I  stood  over  the  table. 
I  could  see  the  crease  in  his  cheeks,  the  sag  under 
his  eyes,  and  the  grey  roots  of  his  dyed  moustache. 
He  looked  up  at  me  as  I  raised  my  hand.  '  Let 
her  go,'  I  said,  shouting  at  him  above  the  jangle 
of  the  piano,  '  let  her  go,  Mr.  Croasan.'  He  was 
holding  her  down  on  his  knee. 


186  ALIENS 


a  i 


Mind  yer  own  affairs  ! '  lie  says  to  me,  sho^ving 
his  teeth,  great  dirty  yellow  fangs  ;  '  Is  she  yours  ?  ' 
he  says.  The  Belgian  engineer  sitting  near  him 
laughed  at  this  and  looked  up  sneering  at  me. 
'  Let  her  go,'  I  said  again.  '  Rosa's  a  friend  of 
mine,'  says  he,  still  holding  her.  Just  then  I  saw 
Rebecca's  head  over  the  piano,  and  as  I  looked 
down  again  I  saw  a  peculiar  expression  on  Rosa's 
face.  Her  eyes  were  on  me  and  she  seemed  to  be 
thinking  '  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  '  It  all 
happened,  you  know,  in  two  or  three  seconds.  I 
waited  no  more.  I  put  the  flat  of  my  hand  across 
Croasan's  mouth,  hard.  He  jerked  back  to  avoid 
it,  and  the  tray  that  Rosa  was  trying  to  set  down 
on  the  table,  so  that  she  could  get  at  him  with  her 
nails,  went  all  over  him.  The  old  woman  came 
round  the  piano  and  saw  him.  Croasan  started 
up  and  I  hit  him  again,  and  he  fell  over  the  Belgian. 
"  At  first  I  thought  I  was  in  for  a  big  row.  But 
Croasan  had  more  experience  than  I  had.  He'd 
been  in  rows  before.  When  he  started  up  it  was 
not  to  hit  me,  but  to  get  out.  He  crawled  under 
the  table  between  the  Belgian's  legs  and  ran  to  the 
door.  The  others  were  crowding  all  round  me, 
arguing  and  shouting.  The  young  chap  at  the  piano 
was  standing  up  and  looking  over  the  top,  and 
Rebecca  was  trying  to  calm  them.  '  Easy,  gentle- 
men ! '  she  kept  on  calling.  Rosa  had  disap- 
peared. Then  the  Belgian  jumped  up  and  shouted, 
'  Ee  interfere  wis  my  frien'  ! '  pointing  at  me,  and 
marching  out. 


ALIENS  187 

"  When  we  got  quiet  again  I  began  to  explain 
to  Rebecca  what  had  happened.  Do  you  know,  I 
thought  that  was  the  real  danger.  I  thought  she 
would  be  the  one  to  get  on  to  me  for  interfering. 
Rebecca  was  a  woman  who  looked  more  evil  than  she 
really  was.  She  sat  down  at  my  table,  and  while 
I  told  her  and  the  piano  jangled  away  again,  she 
kept  patting  my  arm  and  saying,  '  Yes,  yes,  I 
know.'  What  did  she  know  ?  Why,  the  simple 
fact  that  Rosa  was  no  longer  a  little  girl  to  be 
petted,  but  a  grown-up  girl  to  be  insulted.  I 
learned  a  similar  thing  had  happened  once  or  twice 
in  the  last  few  months.  You  see,  the  girl  was 
neither  in  one  class  nor  the  other.  A  young  Genoese 
will  not  look  at  a  girl  who  lives  in  those  houses 
along  the  Front.  He  thinks  they  are  all  rotten 
bad.  As  for  the  foreigners  she  met  in  the  '  Isle  o' 
Man,'  I  needn't  tell  you  what  an  average  English- 
man thinks  of  foreign  women. 

"  I  told  the  Chief  about  it  next  day,  and  he  looked 
up  sharp  from  his  plate  when  I  mentioned  Croasan. 
He  said  hard  things  of  Croasan.  '  Think  of  that !  ' 
says  he.  '  An  old  chap  wi'  married  daughters  !  ' 
'  Huh  ! '  says  the  Second.  '  They're  aye  the 
wurrs't.  But  I'm  glad  ye  punched  him,  mister,' 
he  says.  '  Many  a  time  I'd  ha'  done  the  same,  only 
we  were  on  articles.     Rosa,  too  !  ' 

"  '  Ay,'  says  the  Chief,  '  but  Rosa'll  have  to  put 
up  with  men  clawin'  her  now.' 

"  It  was  my  intention,  to  avoid  trouble  and  talk, 
to  keep  away  from  the '  Isle  o'  Man '  for  the  future,  but 


188  ALIENS 

it  turned  out  otherwise.  I'd  got  leave  from  the  Chief 
on  Thursday  afternoon  to  go  up  to  the  Cathedral  of 
San  Lorenzo  to  see  the  Holy  Grail.  They  keep  it 
in  the  Treasury  there  and  show  it  on  Thursdays 
for  a  franc.  Most  Englishmen  laugh  at  these  tales 
of  the  Church,  and  even  Catholics  I  have  met  tell 
me  they  don't  beHeve  in  miracles.  I  don't  know 
why  ;  I'm  interested  in  them.  Sometimes  I  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  state  of  mind  in  which  they  are 
reasonable  and  necessary  things.  The  more  we 
learn  the  less  we  know.  They  say  that  saints, 
because  they  led  good  lives  and  kept  away  from 
evil,  were  able  to  perform  miracles.     Why  should 

\a  statement  like  that  annoy  anybody  ?  Good  is  a 
■power  and  evil  is  a  power.  Why  deny  it  ?  I  read 
a  book  the  other  day  in  which  the  author,  a  German 
with  a  name  like  a  lady's  sneeze,  denies  the  exist- 
ence of  good  and  evil.  Humph  !  It's  a  long  time 
since  I  read  Hegel,  but  I  don't  think  he  was  ever 
as  mad  as  that ! 

"  I  was  coming  through  the  church  after  quitting 
the  sacristan,  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  girl  kneehng 
on  the  steps  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  John.  I  suppose 
you  know  that  the  Precursor  is  buried  in  this 
church  ?  They  show  you  a  silver  box  with  a 
chain  round  it,  the  chain  that  bound  him  in  prison. 
There  were  other  women  in  the  church,  but  this 
girl  was  not  in  the  chapel,  only  kneeling  on  the 
step  outside.  Women,  you  see,  are  not  allowed 
to  enter  that  chapel ;  on  account  of  Salome,  I 
suppose.     I  saw  this  girl  kneeling  on  the  step  and 


I  ALIENS  189 

crossed  over  to  see  what  she  was  doing.  It  was 
Rosa,  saying  her  prayers.  There  is  a  difference 
between  a  Catholic  and  a  Protestant  praying.  You 
may  have  noticed  it.  A  Protestant  shuts  his  eyes 
and  thinks  hard  about  the  money  he's  making  or 
the  automobile  he's  going  to  buy.  A  CathoHc 
\  plays  about  with  his  beads  and  chatters  all  the  time 
.  while  he's  thinking  of  religion.  Protestants  are 
I  scandaHzed  when  they  see  how  CathoHcs  make  a 
I  sort  of  rough-house  play -ground  of  their  churches — 
children  playing  on  the  floor  during  service  even. 
They  can't  understand  how  Catholics  manage  to 
reverence  a  thing  and  yet  not  hate  it.  English- 
men always  draw  wrong  conclusions  about  an 
Italian's  relations  with  God.  You  see,  most  Eng- 
lishmen feel  about  God  as  they  used  to  feel  about 
Queen  Victoria.  They  respected  her  and  felt  she 
was  necessary,  but  all  the  same  they  felt  exasper- 
ated with  her  for  being  so  particular  at  times  ! 
Humph  ! 

"  Well,  Rosa  looked  up  and  recognized  me, 
smiled  and  went  on  praying  as  fast  as  she  could. 
I  bowed.  Of  course  I  had  my  hat  in  my  hand,  so 
I  had  to  bow.  I  saw  her  go  red,  and  I  thought 
I'd  done  something  she  disapproved  of.  I  stood 
there  hardly  knowing  what  to  do,  and  she  bent 
her  head  to  finish  her  prayer.  She  told  me  after- 
wards that  it  was  the  first  time  anyone  had  ever 
bowed  to  her.  She  turned  red  because  she  thought 
I  was  mocking  her,  and  then,  I  suppose,  with 
pleasure.     That  was  the  beginning  of  our  courtship. 


190  ALIENS 

"  Of  course,  in  one  sense,  it  was  an  unusual  court- 
ship. It  happened  to  come  about  by  a  number  of 
accidents.  If  I  hadn't  hit  old  Croasan  she  would 
never  have  looked  at  me,  for  I'm  not  a  very  con- 
spicuous figure  at  any  time.  If  I  hadn't  met  her 
in  the  church  just  as  she  was  praying  for  my  soul, 
because  I'd  acted  kindly  towards  her,  I  might 
never  have  seen  her  again.  And  so  on,  if — if — if. 
It  was  in  that  sense  unusual.  But  in  another 
sense  I  don't  suppose  there  was  ever  a  more 
commonplace  affair  than  this  of  Eosa  and  me.  If 
we'd  lived  in  Brixton  we  couldn't  have  been  more 
respectable  !     Humph  ! 

"  For  some  mysterious  reason  or  other  Eebecca 
took  a  fancy  to  me.  Mind,  I  was  only  third  engineer 
of  the  oldest  tramp  in  Genoa.  If  I'd  been  Chief, 
then  I  could  have  understood  her  making  a  fuss 
of  me.  But  I  was  Third.  I  have  an  idea  Eebecca 
had  seen  better  days.  Now  and  again  she  dropped 
hints  that  pointed  that  way.  She  had  a  manner 
too,  when  she  was  sober,  and  had  been  cleaned  up. 
The  men  who  drank  in  her  bar  little  knew  how  she 
was  transformed  when  she  dressed  herself  to  go  up 
town.  They  little  knew,  either,  how  very  like  the 
house  upstairs  was  to  houses  in  Brixton  or  Hartle- 
pool or  the  Paisley  Eoad.  Middle -class  people  are 
the  same  all  the  world  over.  I  expect  they  have 
fringes  on  their  curtains  even  in  Honolulu  !  Ee- 
becca had,  anyhow. 

"  The  news  made  a  bit  of  stir  among  the  ships 
for  a  while  as  might  be  expected,  and  gradually 


ALIENS  191 

spread'riglit  through  the  Merchant  Service.  '  Rosa 
of  Rebecca's  was  engaged  to  the  Third  of  the 
Corydon ! '  By  George,  that  was  a  morsel  of 
gossip.  Miss  Bevan  had  heard  about  it  in  Barry  ; 
Polly  Loo  in  Singapore  heard  it,  the  girls  in  the  Little 
Wooden  Hut  at  Las  Palmas  heard  it.  It  went  round 
i  the  world,  that  Rosa  of  Rebecca's  was  engaged. 
''  For  three  years  we  traded  as  regularly  as  a 
mail  boat  to  Genoa  with  coal,  then  across  to  Car- 
tagena in  Spain  for  iron  ore  and  back  to  the 
Tyne.  I  was  Second,  of  course,  and  I  passed  for 
Chief  when  my  time  was  all  in,  just  taking  a  few 
days  of!  to  go  to  Shields  for  the  examination.  I 
might  have  got  another  ship,  but  I  was  pretty 
comfortable  by  now.  I  knew  my  Chief  and  my 
engines,  and  I  naturally  wanted  to  keep  on  the 
Genoa  trade  as  long  as  I  could.  In  those  days  they 
took  weeks  to  discharge,  and  so  I  used  to  have 
quite  a  spell  with  Rosa.  She  was  never  bothered 
with  '  men  clawin'  her '  as  the  Chief  expressed  it. 
I  used  to  take  her  up  to  the  Giardino  D' Italia  to 
listen  to  the  band  and  to  see  the  movies,  or  we'd 
take  the  Funicular  up  to  Castellaccio  and  have  a 
bit  of  dinner  at  a  little  trattoria  near  the  Righi, 
where  you  can  look  out  across  the  sea.  I  learned 
to  speak  the  language  pretty  well,  and  it  was  my 
intention  at  first  to  settle  in  Italy.  But  Rosa 
would  not  hear  that.  She  wanted  to  get  away 
from  the  associations  of  her  childhood.  You  may 
wonder  who  she  was.  So  did  I.  I'm  sorry  to  say 
that  I  have  never  found  out. 


192  ALIENS 

"  After  all  though,  what  does  it  matter  ?  It's 
natural,  of  course,  for  people  to  gossip  and  specu- 
late, but  what  does  it  really  matter  ?  I  thought  at 
first  the  Chief  was  right  when  he  said  he  was  certain 
Kebecca  was  her  mother.  But  Rebecca  told  me 
that  it  was  her  heaviest  punishment  that  she  had 
had  no  children.  You  can't  tell  ...  To  me  at 
any  rate  it  didn't  matter.  In  fact,  to  me  there 
was  a  sort  of  satisfaction  in  being  engaged  to  a 
girl  who  knew  nothing  of  England,  who  was  an 
alien  like  me  ;  a  sort  of  satisfaction  in  marrying 
'  beneath  me,'  as  the  saying  is.  It  seemed  to  be 
paying  out  Gladys,  and  doing  something  that,  if  he 
heard  of  it,  would  annoy  my  brother.     Humph  ! 

"  We  were  sitting  on  the  bastion  at  Castellaccio 
one  evening,  and  I  was  looking  through  the  evening 
paper  when  I  saw  a  little  item  of  news  that  inter- 
ested me.  I  can't  say  I  was  surprised.  A  man 
like  my  brother  makes  you  feel  that  you  ought  not 
to  be  surprised  at  anything  he  does.  Moreover,  I 
felt  I  had  cut  myself  adrift  so  completely  that  in  all 
probabiUty  I  should  never  see  him  again.  I  was 
not  surprised,  only  interested.  My  brother,  '  Mr. 
Francis  Carville,  an  Englishman,'  was  arrested  at 
the  tables  at  Monte  Carlo. 

''  I  thought  to  myself,  *  He's  done  it  now.'  He 
had.  According  to  the  Corriera  de  Sera,  he  had 
done  it  very  completely.  Meeting  an  Enghsh  lady 
of  high  rank  at  Biarritz,  he  had  represented  himself 
to  be  a  director  of  a  big  motor-car  syndicate,  and 
she  had  beheved  him  even  to  the  extent  of  giving 


ALIENS  193 

him  five  or  six  thousand  pounds  to  invest.  He'd 
invested  it  all  right,  at  Monte  Carlo.  The  paper 
went  on  to  say  that  he  was  staking  his  last  fiity- 
franc  bill  when  he  was  arrested.  In  due  course 
he  would  be  taken  to  England  under  an  extradition 
order. 

"  In  due  course  he  was.  The  Press  took  no 
great  notice  of  the  affair  because  during  his  remand 
the  pubhc  forgot  it.  The  '  lady  of  high  rank ' 
desired  the  court  to  take  a  lenient  view  of  it.  Her 
name  was  not  given  out.  I  can  imagine  very  well 
why  she  did  not  wish  it  to  appear.  I  knew  my 
brother.  He  had  held  up  his  hand  and  she  had 
run  to  him.     He  got  three  years. 

"  For  us  there  was  nothing  to  do.  I  wrote  to 
my  mother  saying  that  if  she  wanted,  Fd  leave  the 
sea  for  a  while  and  hve  with  her.  My  uncle  wrote 
me  saying  my  mother  was  dead.  Shock,  I  suppose. 
I  went  to  London  from  the  Tyne  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  my  uncle.  He  was  terribly  upset.  He 
had  seen  my  brother,  but  there  was  nothing  we 
could  do  for  him,  he  said.  He  was  down  and  out, 
and  he  didn't  care.  It  seemed  a  poor  ending  to 
our  parents'  fine  dreams  for  our  future  ;  him  in 
gaol,  me  ploughing  the  ocean  .  .  . 

*'  But,  worried  as  my  uncle  was  about  my  brother, 
he  seemed  absolutely  staggered  when  I  told  him 
of  Kosa.  He  had  never  dreamed  I  would  do  such 
a  thing.  He  asked  me  where  I  was  going  to  live, 
and  I  told  him,  *  certainly  not  in  England.'     I  said 

I  would  prefer  myself  to  hve  in  Italy,  but  Rosa 

N 


194  ALIENS 

objected.  He  thought  a  bit  and  finally  told  me 
that  the  Callisto,  running  between  Genoa  and  the 
River  Plate  with  cattle  and  grain,  would  need  a 
Chief  soon  and  I  could  have  the  job.  Poor  old 
chap  !  He  never  denied  I  had  a  right  to  marry 
whom  I  liked,  but  he  couldn't  understand  a  Carville 
marrying  a  foreign  woman  who  didn't  know  who 
her  parents  were  ! 

"  In  time  I  joined  the  Callisto  in  Genoa.  Rosa 
was  glad  when  I  told  her  about  my  new  job.  We 
agreed  to  wait  a  year  or  so  until  I  was  fixed  in  my 
job  and  then  think  about  settling.  She  was  a 
quiet  girl  always,  and  we  had  got  accustomed  to 
each  other's  ways  and  habits.  That's  one  of  the 
secrets  of  Uving  ^vith  a  woman.  It  isn't  being  just 
considerate.  That's  necessary  of  course ;  but 
what  a  woman  does  hate  is  being  startled  with 
some  fresh  habit  or  idea.  It  spoils  her  illusion 
that  she  knows  all  about  you. 

"  Yes,  she  was  a  quiet  girl  and  took  me  very 
much  as  she  found  me.  Sometimes  she  would  get 
a  fit  of  curiosity  about  England  and  ask  me  about 
my  family.  Had  I  brothers,  sisters  ?  I  didn't  say 
anything  definite.  You  can't,  you  know,  in  a  case 
like  mine.  I  told  Rebecca  just  the  plain  truth, 
that  I  wanted  to  marry  Rosa,  and  if  she  needed 
any  reference  write  to  Captain  Carville,  Superin- 
tendent of  the  Calydon  Steamship  Company. 
Nobody  I  knew  on  the  ship  or  in  Genoa  connected 
me  with  the  case  in  the  ])apers.  There  are  some,  I 
know,  who  would  never  be  able  to  keep  such  a 


ALIENS  195 

tale  to  themselves.  There  was  a  dare-devil  glamour 
about  everything  my  brother  did  that  fascinates 
some  minds.  But  I  was  cured  of  glamour.  My 
experience  with  Gladys  had  filled  me  up  with 
romance.  It  is  too  unsettling.  It  leads  to — well, 
look  at  my  brother.  Perhaps  there's  some  Puritan 
blood  in  my  veins  ;  but  I  feel  that  passion  in 
itself  is  evil.  I  wanted  no  more  of  it.  I  wanted  a 
quiet  place  of  my  own.  Some  day,  I  fancied,  I 
might  write  another  book.  At  night,  when  all  ran 
smooth,  Fd  jot  down  odds  and  ends  ...  I  may 
use  them  some  day.  I  shan't  fret,  though,  if 
nothing  comes  of  it. 

"  I  Hked  my  new  job.  The  Callisto  was  a  much 
bigger  ship  than  the  Cory  don,  and  more  modern. 
Certainly  cattle  are  very  unpleasant  cargo,  and 
when  we  came  into  Genoa  Harbour  and  the  ship 
was  being  cleaned  up,  you  could  smell  her  clear 
away  to  the  Galleria  Mazzini !  But  at  sea,  on  the 
long  run  south  to  Buenos  Ay  res,  it  was  none  so 
bad.  I  was  looking  forward  to  my  marriage,  you 
see.  I  was  saving  money  and  I  was  beginning  to 
forget  the  past.  It  is  easier  for  a  seaman  to  do 
that  than  for  anyone  ashore.  A  sailor's  past  is  all 
in  pieces,  so  to  speak.  He  can  drop  it  bit  by  bit. 
But  when  you  live  ashore  in  one  place,  your  past 
is  like  a  heavy  log  that  you're  tied  to  and  can't 
quit. 

"  Anyway,  one  night  in  Buenos  Ayres,  when 
I  went  ashore  to  mail  a  letter  to  Rosa,  I  was 
in    good    spirits.    I   reflected  that,   after  all,   my 


196  ALIENS 

father's  dreams  of  founding  a  family  were  not 
necessarily  impossible.  My  brother's  behaviour 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  was  going  to  marry 
Kosa.  If  we  had  children  they  would  have  a 
chance.  But  just  as  Eosa  would  not  hear  of  Italy, 
so  I  was  resolved  with  all  my  might  against  living 
in  England.  My  children  should  never  come  under 
the  influence  of  that  gentihty  that  had  spoiled  our 
early  hves.  For  the  old  famihes  in  England  who 
have  been  steeped  in  it  for  centuries,  for  men  Uke 
Belvoir,  for  instance,  I  dare  say  it  is  an  admirable 
plan.  But  not  for  me  nor  for  mine.  I  had  been 
writing  about  it  to  Rosa  and  Td  put  at  the  bottom, 
'  America  ?  ' 

''  Another  thing  I  wanted  to  do  ashore  was  to 
call  at  the  Sailors'  Home  and  see  if  they  could  give 
us  a  Mess-room  Steward.  The  young  fellow  who 
had  shipped  that  voyage  had  deserted.  They  are 
always  doing  it  in  the  Argentine.  Wages  are  very 
high  and  they  all  think  that  they  can  do  well  up 
country.  They  sign  on  just  to  get  their  passage 
free.  The  ship  was  in  Number  One  Dock,  loading 
grain,  and  I  walked  across  the  bridge,  up  San  Juan 
and  took  a  trolley  car  along  Balcarce  to  the  Plaza 
de  Mayo.  It  was  a  fine  evening  in  September, 
quite  cool  after  dark.  I  was  rather  pleased  with 
myself,  too.  The  boilers  had  opened  up  uncom- 
monly well ;  the  Second  knew  his  work,  and 
I  had  nothing  to  do  but  keep  an  eye  on  things  in 
general.  I  posted  my  letter,  and  after  walking 
up  and  down  the  Avenida  de  Mayo  for  a   while, 


ALIENS  197 

went  down  to  the  Parque  Colon  to  get  a  car  back. 
The  trolleys  of  Buenos  Ayres  are  a  bit  puzzling 
to  a  stranger  because  the  routes  go  by  numbers. 
I  knew  nothing  about  the  car  I  wanted  except 
that  it  had  the  number  '  Forty -eight '  on  the 
bows. 

"  The  Parque  Colon  is  a  large  place  running 
parallel  with  the  Number  Three  Dock,  full  of  big 
trees,  and  the  avenues  through  it  are  rather  dark. 
Considering  how  close  it  is  to  the  busy  part  of  the 
city  it  is  lonely.  Men  had  been  found  on  the 
seats — dead  !  I  daresay  you  have  heard  of  Buenos 
Ayres.  Like  any  other  city  where  money  can  be 
made  quickly,  Hke  London,  like  New  York,  Buenos 
Ayres  is  full  of  crooks.  I  believe  they  do  their 
best  to  keep  the  place  clean,  but  at  that  time  it 
was  pretty  bad.  The  Skipper  warned  me  to  carry 
a  revolver  whenever  I  went  ashore.  Personally 
I'm  against  firearms.  You  generally  find,  after  a 
row,  that  the  dead  man  had  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 
Unarmed  strangers  are  not  often  touched. 

"  Number  Forty-eight  was  a  long  while  coming 
Car  after  car  came  down  the  steep  incline  of  Victoria 
and  turning  round  eastward  rumbled  off  along 
Paseo  Colon,  I  walked  a  few  steps  down  one  of 
the  dark  avenues  and  sat  down  on  a  seat  to  finish 
my  cigar.  It  was  like  walking  into  a  dark  room. 
I  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  city,  yet  at  the  same 
time  I  could  hear  some  local  sounds  plainly.  A 
musty  smell  came  up  on  the  breeze  from  the  river. 
Suddenly  I  heard  the  long  deep  note  of  a  steamer's 


198  ALIENS 

whistle  :  the  Mihanovich  Mail  Boat  leaving  for 
Monte  Video.  I  sat  there  quietly,  thinking  of 
nothing  in  particular,  just  glancing  up  now  and 
then  to  note  the  numbers  of  the  trolleys.  At  the 
sound  of  the  whistle,  though,  I  fell  to  thinking  of 
Mihanovich.  What  a  romance  that  man's  Hfe 
must  have  been  !  They  tell  me  that  about  forty 
years  ago  he'd  landed  in  that  place,  a  Russian 
Pole,  ignorant  of  the  language,  without  any  money 
or  friends,  a  low-down  beach-comber.  And  here  he 
was,  a  millionaire.  Every  tug  on  the  river  has  his 
big  M  on  the  funnel.  He  had  fleets  of  steamers, 
mines,  railways,  banks ;  and  he  was  even  tender- 
ing for  the  contract  of  the  new  docks  the  city 
wanted.  No  wonder  others  came  to  make  their 
fortunes.  No  gentility  needed  to  make  him 
succeed.  And  thinking  of  him,  somehow  I  began 
to  wonder  if  my  brother  might  not  make  good  out 
in  the  colonies  say,  some  distant  part  of  the  world. 
Some  time  before  this  my  uncle  had  told  me  that 
Frank  had  been  released.  Good  behaviour  had 
reduced  his  time  to  about  twenty  months.  Surely, 
if  he  started  in  some  place  where  they  didn't  ask 
too  many  questions  he  might  get  another  chance. 
And  I  hoped  so.  I  had  no  malice  against  him. 
He  was  one  of  those  who  can't  keep  their  nature 
down ;  women  were  the  curse  of  him.  Well, 
perhaps  prison  had  changed  him.  My  uncle  had 
said  that  he  was  '  changed,'  but  that  might  be 
for  the  worse.  And  just  when  the  old  chap  was 
deciding  to  pay  the  passage  out  to  New  Zealand — 


ALIENS  199 

buy  him  a  ticket  and  see  him  on  board — my  brother 
had  vanished  again. 

"  Mind  you,  the  interest  I  took  in  the  matter 
was,  you  might  say,  purely  dispassionate.  I 
turned  the  case  of  my  brother  over  in  my  mind 
as  you  might  turn  over  the  problems  of  a  book  you 
are  half  through.  I'm  not  sure  that  at  the  moment 
when  I  was  interrupted  I  was  not  smiling  at  the 
insane  life  he  had  led.  For  me,  in  spite  of  my  sea- 
going business,  life  was  settled,  sedentary,  monoton- 
ous. You  can  blat  if  you  like  of  the  romance  of 
the  sea,  you  may  call  it  picturesque,  but  you  can 
not  call  it  melodramatic.  Personally  I  dislike 
melodrama.  I  dislike  violent  passion  of  any  sort. 
I  was  thinking  of  all  this  and,  as  I  say,  smiling, 
when  I  heard  tip -toes  behind  me,  and  before  I 
could  turn  round  I  felt  my  throat  held  between 
two  hands  and  my  head  pulled  sharp  over  the 
back  of  the  seat." 

Once  again  Mr,  Carville  paused,  opened  his  Httle 
brass  box  and  took  therefrom  his  piece  of  twist. 
With  meticulous  precision  he  pared  and  pared  the 
required  amount  for  his  pipe,  and  began  to  roll  it 
between  his  palms,  his  eyes  fixed  reflectively  upon 
the  geranium  tubs.  He  had  pushed  his  hat  back 
a  little,  and  above  his  steady  grey-blue  eyes  there 
shone  a  pink  unruffled  brow. 

"  Once  or  twice  in  my  life,"  he  went  on,  "I  have 
had  a  severe  shock.  Let  me  explain  what  I  mean. 
To  a  man  brought  up  as  I  had  been,  in  a  genteel 
way,  he  gets  unaccustomed  to  physical  violence. 


200  ALIENS 

At  school  fighting  was  barred  very  strictly.  In 
the  works  we  pupils  had  no  need  to  speak  to  the 
men  at  all.  The  first  time  I  was  ever  struck  was 
when  I  was  a  pupil.  One  of  the  apprentices 
thought  I  had  been  at  his  tools,  came  up  and  hit 
me  a  terrific  blow  on  the  chin.  To  anybody  used 
to  fighting  it  would  have  been  nothing.  It  made 
me  ill  for  a  week.  Of  course,  at  sea  I'd  grown  a 
good  bit  harder,  but  I'll  never  forget  the  first  time 
a  fireman  went  for  me.  There  was  always  with  me 
a  feeling  of  outrage  so  to  speak,  a  feeling  not  at  all 
towards  the  man  who  struck  me,  you  understand, 
but  against  myself,  against  a  world  that  had  made 
me  what  I  was,  soft  and  unskilled.  That  seems  to 
me  a  pecuHar  weakness  in  our  genteel  civilization. 
You  go  along,  for  years  perhaps,  living  a  quiet, 
orderly,  intellectual  life,  protected  by  law,  by  the 
Army  and  Navy,  by  the  Pohce  and  by  all  '  the 
conventions  of  good  society,'  and  then  suddenly 
a  man  comes  up  and  gives  you  a  punch  on  the  jaw  ! 
A  very  weak  place  in  our  civiHzation,  I  think  ? 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  my  throat  was  held  for  a 
long  time,  in  that  grip.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  could 
not  have  been  more  than  a  couple  of  seconds.  But 
it  seemed  long.  It  seemed  to  me  as  though  the 
pressure,  which  was  choking  me  to  begin  with, 
increased  and  increased.  The  power  of  it  was  not 
like  the  power  of  a  machine,  but  evil,  personal, 
spiteful.  I  remember  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  remember 
hot  breath  on  my  face.  And  then  I  remember  a 
blank.     In  my  memoiy  it  is  Uke  a  space  between 


ALIENS  201 

inverted  commas,  without  anything  written.  A 
blank.  .  .  . 

"  My  head  had  sKd  down  against  the  back  of  the 
seat,  my  knees  were  all  cigar- dust,  and  my  hat 
had  fallen  of!,  when  I  opened  my  eyes.  I  heard 
someone  say,  '  Sit  up,  for  God's  sake ! '  and  I  tried 
to  do  as  I  was  told,  to  '  sit  up  for  God's  sake.' 
Somebody  was  sitting  beside  me,  pulling  at  my 
shoulder.  Now  and  again  I  heard  him  say,  '  You 
damn  fool !  '  He  was  angry  with  me  then.  I 
wondered  what  I'd  done  to  make  anybody  angry. 
I  tried  to  think.  I'd  been  sitting  on  a  seat  in  the 
Par  que  Colon.  Very  good.  Why  was  I  a  damn 
fool  ?  I  decided  to  argue  the  point  with  this  chap. 
I  struggled  up  and  felt  for  my  hat.  I  heard  him 
say,  '  Listen,  you  fool ! '  There  he  was  again. 
Always  a  fool.  Then  he  said,  '  Well,  looh  then,  if 
you  can't  hear,'  and  he  struck  a  match  and  held  it 
before  his  face.     Humph  ! 

"  He  pinched  the  match  between  his  fingers  and 
we  were  in  the  dark  again.  He  said,  '  Well, 
Charlie,  old  man,  that  was  a  near  squeak  for  you, 
a  damn  near  squeak.  What  the  devil  d'you  go 
sitting  round  a  place  like  this  for  ?  ' 

"  I  remember  being  very  much  amused  at  this. 
He  was  actually  angry  with  me  !  He  had  nearly 
choked  the  hfe  out  of  me,  and  he  was  angry  with 
me  !  I  had  nothing  to  say.  My  tongue  seemed 
glued  to  my  teeth.  I  brushed  my  hat  and  began 
to  look  for  my  cigar.  What  I  was  really  looking 
for  was  my  wits. 


202  ALIENS 

"  He  went  on  talking.  '  Charlie,'  he  says,  '  I'm 
desperate.  I'm  down  and  out.  For  God's  sake 
give  nie  some  money  ?  What  are  you  ?  '  he  says, 
*  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  I  thought  you  were  a 
sailor.  You  look  prosperous.  Give  me — lend  me 
some  money,  or  I'll  have  to  take  it.' 

"  While  he  went  on  like  this,  sometimes  threaten- 
ing, sometimes  whining,  I  was  collecting  my  faculties. 
The  feehng  that  some  one  had  wrapped  copper  wire 
tight  round  my  neck  was  going  away.  I  found 
my  cigar.  I  struck  a  match,  and  by  the  hght  of  it 
I  saw  my  brother  again. 

"  Yes,  he  was  down  and  out.  He  had  not  had 
a  shave  for  a  week,  his  hat  had  been  picked  of!  a 
rubbish-heap,  his  trousers  were  muddied  and  torn 
at  the  knees,  his  coat  was  buttoned  up  to  hide  his 
black  hairy  chest.  He  had  no  shirt.  He  was  down 
and  out. 

"  I  settled  in  my  mind  what  had  happened  before 
I  spoke.  This  brother  of  mine  had  apparently 
made  an  exception  in  my  favour.  He  had  crept 
up  behind  me  with  the  deliberate  intention  of 
stranghng  me  and  picking  my  pocket.  Seeing  my 
face  he  had  decided  that  he  could  pick  my  pocket 
without  strangling  me. 

"  The  curious  thing  was  that  I  had  no  feehng  of 
anger  towards  him.  What  filled  me  with  a  sort  of 
panic  was  the  fact  that  my  brother  had  come  back 
into  my  life.  I  hadn't  reahzed  it  so  plainly  before, 
but  he  scared  me.  I  suppose  he  saw  something 
of  this  in  my  f ace,  for  he  says, '  Charlie,  let  bygones 


ALIENS  203 

be  bygones,  old  man.  Help  me  make  a  fresh 
start  ! ' 

"  '  Hold  on,'  I  said.  '  The  last  time  I  saw  you, 
Frank,  you  had  bags  of  money.     You  had  my  place 

in    the    house .'      '  Oh,    dry    up ! '     he    says, 

*  never  mind  what  I  had,  look  at  me  now.  Charlie, 
look  at  me.  I've  walked  every  foot  of  the  way 
from  Rosario.  I'm  broke,  cleaned  out,  desperate. 
I've  nothing  to  lose.' 

"  '  You  never  had,'  I  told  him.  '  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  ?  ' 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  he  asked  me  for  ? 
Nothing  less  than  fifty  pounds.  He  seemed  to 
have  a  mania  for  fifty  pounds.  He  couldn't 
demean  himself,  even  in  that  state,  to  make  it  less. 
You  might  say  he  thought  in  fifties.  *  Good  God, 
man  ! '  I  said,  '  do  you  think  I'm  made  of  money  ?  ' 
'  You  look  prosperous,  Charlie.  Give  me  what 
you  have  and  I'll  take  the  rest  to-morrow.'  '  I'll 
do  nothing  of  the  sort,'  I  said.  '  Here's  my  car.' 
And  a  Number  Forty- eight  came  down  Victoria. 
'Is  it  ?  '  says  he.  '  It's  mine  too,  then,'  and  he 
follows  me  up  to  the  track. 

"  When  I  had  sat  down  in  the  car  I  began  to 
think.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  Evidently  my 
brother  had  been  so  absorbed  in  his  own  life,  so 
indifferent  to  anything  that  had  happened  to  me, 
that  he  didn't  even  know  what  I  was.  That  didn't 
prevent  him  asking  nearly  three  months'  wages  of 
me,  though  !  Now,  if  he  saw  me  go  down  to  the 
ship  he  would  never  let  me  alone.    He  sat  there 


204  ALIENS 

in  the  car  near  the  door,  his  hands  hanging  over  his 
knees,  his  head  bowed  to  hide  his  chest,  the  paper 
ticket  twisting  in  his  fingers.  That  my  brother  ! 
It  came  to  me  with  a  sudden  shock,  a  spasm,  that, 
as  usual,  right  was  on  his  side.  I  couldn't 
leave  him  Hke  that.  And  yet  w^hat  could  I  do  ? 
If  I  gave  him  money  he  would  only  prey  on  me 
again.  Never  mind  :  it  was  my  duty  to  aid  him. 
When  the  car  stopped  at  the  end  of  Paseo  Colon 
I  had  made  up  my  mind.  I  dropped  off  and 
waited  in  the  dark  shadow  of  the  buildings  opposite 
the  Parque  Leyema.  He  came  up  to  me.  I  could 
see  his  lips  trembling  and  his  hands  clutching. 
'  Charhe,  don't  you  play  me  false,  don't  you  play 
me  false  !  My  God,  Charhe,  I'll  kill  you— I'll  do 
something  with  you,  if  you  play  me  false.'  It  was 
like  a  child  in  hysterics.  I  didn't  realize  it  immedi- 
ately, but  that  was  just  what  was  the  matter  with 
my  brother — hysteria.  '  Easy,'  I  said,  '  where 
can  I  take  you  ?  I'm  not  known  here.'  '  Take  ! ' 
he  says,  *  to  your  own  house  of  course.'  '  Listen,' 
I  said.  '  Do  you  hear  what  I  say  ?  '  He  nodded. 
'  Well,'  I  went  on,  '  I'm  the  chief  engineer  of  a 
steamer  in  yon  dock.  If  you  come  down  with  me, 
don't  forget  there's  a  sentry  with  a  rifle  on  that 
bridge  we've  got  to  cross,  there's  two  more  patrol- 
ling the  quay,  and  there's  another  armed  watch- 
man on  board.  And  Frank,'  I  added,  '  when  a 
man  runs  here,  they  shoot.  They  find  out  if  he 
was  a  criminal  afterwards.  Understand  ? '  He 
looked    down     on     the     ground,    his    shoulders 


ALIENS  205 

moving  in  a  sort  of  convulsion.  '  Come  on,'  I 
said. 

''  He  followed  me  like  a  shadow  over  the  bridge, 
along  the  quay  and  up  the  gangway.  The  watch- 
man saw  us  come  aboard,  but  otherwise  the  dock 
was  deserted.  My  room  was  on  the  starboard  side, 
the  second  door  in  the  alleyway.  I  looked  along 
and  down  in  the  engine-room.  The  Fourth  was 
down  below  reading  a  novel  on  the  bench  by  the 
dynamo.  All  the  rest  were  still  ashore — up  at  the 
Bier  Convent  or  the  Apollo,  I  suppose.  I  opened 
my  door  and  Frank  stepped  inside. 

"  '  Now,'  I  said,  shutting  the  ports,  '  you're  safe.' 

"  He  sat  sideways  on  the  settee,  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hands.  Now  that  I  saw  him  in  the  cold 
glare  of  two  thirty -two  candle-power  lamps,  he  was 
awful.  I  took  off  my  coat  and  set  to  work.  From 
a  drawer  I  took  out  a  suit  of  underwear,  socks,  a 
suit  of  blue  dungarees,  a  flannel  shirt,  an  old  cap 
and  a  pair  of  bluchers.  I  rolled  these  up  in  a  big 
bath  towel  and  handed  them  to  Frank.  '  Frank,' 
I  said,  '  listen.'  He  nodded.  '  See  this  key  ? 
It  fits  the  bath-room.  The  bath-room  is  the  last 
wooden  door  in  this  alleyway.  Go  down  there, 
open  the  door,  take  the  key  with  you,  lock  yourself 
in,  switch  on  the  light,  have  a  bath  from  head  to 
foot,  put  these  clothes  on,  roll  up  those  rags  in 
the  towel  and  bring  them  back.  If  you  meet  any- 
body take  no  notice,  act  as  if  you  belonged.  Here's 
some  soap.' 

"  I  looked  up  and  down  the  alleyway — no  one 


206  ALIENS 

there.  Up  and  down  outside  the  watchman 
slouched  on  the  iron  deck.  Down  below  was  the 
drone  of  the  dynamo  and  the  wheeze  and  whine 
of  the  Weir  pumps.  '  Go  on,'  I  said.  '  Mind,  the 
last  wooden  door  on  the  right.  Don't  go  round 
the  corner.  Understand  ?  '  He  looked  at  me  for 
a  moment  and  then  flitted  away  down  the  long  iron 
tunnel.  I  saw  him  poke  about  with  his  key,  his 
body  all  crouched,  the  white  bundle  sticking  out 
behind  him.  And  then  he  vanished,  and  the  door, 
heavy  teak,  slammed. 

"  I  went  into  the  mess-room  then,  to  get  some 
food.  The  steward  as  a  rule  left  supper  out  for  the 
juniors  on  duty,  but  as  our  young  fellow  had  deserted 
I  had  to  get  the  joint  out  of  the  pantry  and  carve 
some  cold  meat  myself.  I  remember  wondering 
what  the  Fourth  would  think  if  he  came  up  and 
found  the  Chief  nosing  round  the  provision  locker. 
There's  a  certain  dignity,  you  see,  that  you  mustn't 
lower  before  subordinates.  However,  he  was  too 
busy  reading  down  below.  I  got  a  big  plate  of  sand- 
wiches and  a  slab  of  currant  cake  and  went  back 
to  my  room.  I  had  a  neat  little  mahogany  dumb- 
waiter near  the  settee  and  I  put  it  up  and  covered 
it  with  a  linen  towel.  I  spread  the  grub  on  it,  and 
alongside  of  it  I  put  a  flask  of  whisky  and  a  syphon 
of  soda.  I  got  quite  interested.  I  had  no  idea 
of  what  to  do  with  the  man  when  he  was  washed 
and  fed  and  clothed.  I  got  down  a  box  of  cigars 
and  set  him  alongside  of  the  whisky.  After  all,  he 
was  my  brother.      I  thought  of  the  '  la&y  of  high 


ALIENS  207 

rank.'  If  she'd  seen  him  as  I  saw  him,  she  would 
have  been  satisfied.  What  would  Gladys  think  of 
him  ?  It  may  have  been  wrong,  but  I  was  rather 
pleased  with  myself.  I  was  tickled  to  be  able  to 
help  my  brother.  I  knew  that  it  was  risky.  I  had 
no  right  to  bring  him  aboard.  I  sat  down  to  wait, 
when  I  saw  that  I'd  forgotten  to  tie  up  my  canary, 
and  I  was  hunting  for  the  calico  I  used  at  sea  when 
the  door  opened  and  my  brother  came  in  with  a 
rush. 

"  It  almost  seemed  as  though  soap  and  water 
had  had  a  magical  effect  on  him.  Literally,  he 
wasn't  the  same  man.  His  arms  and  legs  stuck 
out  of  the  dungarees,  his  hair  was  still  damp  and 
hung  between  his  eyes,  and  his  big  hooked  nose 
was  dark  red  with  towelling.  He  stood  there,  his 
hand  on  the  brass  knob,  looking  at  me  pinning  a 
piece  of  calico  round  my  canary. 

"  He  looked  at  the  little  dumb-waiter  spread  for 
his  supper  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  face. 
'  Charlie,'  he  says,  '  I  must  have  a  shave  first.  The 
pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience,'  he  says,  *  are  piffle 
compared  with  the  miseries  of  a  beard.  Have 
you  a  good  razor  ?  ' 

"  I  had  in  my  room  a  fold-up  wash-stand  and 
shaving-glass.  I  opened  it  and  pointed  to  the 
razors.  '  There's  no  hot  water,'  I  said.  '  No 
hot — Why  Charhe,  you  don't  expect  a  chap  to 
shave  in  cold,  do  you.     Good  God,  man  !  ' 

"  I  give  him  credit  for  any  amount  of  admiration 
for   my   Httle   arrangements.     I   got   out   a   Httle 


208  ALIENS 

tripod  spirit  lamp  ^vith  a  copper-kettle  that  Rosa 
had  given  me  ;  he  was  dehghted.  '  Ton  my  soul, 
Char  he,  you're  an  ingenious  devil !  Fancy  you 
living  here  all  so  snug  and  I  knowing  nothing  about 
it !  Like  Noah  in  his  Ark,  'pon  my  soul/  When 
he  began  to  lather  he  kept  up  a  running  fire  of 
remarks,  mostly  insulting.  '  And  what  are  you 
here,  old  man  ?  Admiral  ?  Lord  High  Muck-a- 
Muck  ?  They  put  you  up  a  jolly  sight  better 
than  they  did  me  in  the  second  cabin  of  that  in- 
fernal Hner  I  came  over  in.  Heavens !  Old 
Uncle  Christopher  wanted  me  to  go  to  New  Zealand. 
He  was  cracked  about  New  Zealand  ;  dippy,  'pon 
my  soul.  When  I  asked  to  see  the  manager  of 
the  affair,  you  know,  the  Skipper,  they  showed 
me  an  underbred  brass-bound  official  called  a 
Purser,  who  said  he'd  put  me  in  irons  if  I  wasn't 
civil.  Oh,  this  world  has  some  bounders  in  it, 
CharUe,  my  boy.  What  do  you  get  here,  Charlie  ? 
Pretty  good  screw,  I  suppose  ?  '  And  so  he  ran 
on.  \Vhen  he  had  finished  spilhng  the  talcum 
powder  all  over  the  floor,  using  my  brushes  for  his 
hair,  he  turned  round  and  looked  over  the  pro- 
visions. 

"  '  Frank,'  I  said,  '  when  you've  had  something 
to  eat  and  drink,  I'll  have  a  talk  with  you.'  '  With 
pleasure,  my  dear  chap,'  says  he.  *  But  what 
a  meal !  Mutton  and  sandwiches,  cake  and  whisky. 
Is  this  your  usual  feed,  Charlie,  may  I  ask  ?  No 
wonder  you  look  dyspeptic'  '  We're  out  of 
pheasant,'  I  said.     He  looks  at  me  and  bursts  out 


ALIENS  209 

laughing.  '  Charlie,  my  boy,  I  wonder  how  much 
you  really  will  stand/  '  I'll  tell  you  presently,' 
I  said,  and  went  on  smoking. 

*'  Dyspepsia  didn't  scare  him  much.  He  went 
across  my  dumb-waiter,  eating  every  crumb, 
drinking  every  drop  of  the  whisky  and  soda.  Then 
he  took  a  cigar,  snipped  it  in  his  big  teeth  and  held 
out  his  hand  for  a  match.  And  then — he  was 
sitting  on  my  red  plush  settee,  while  I  was  in  my 
arm  chair — ^he  swung  his  feet  up  and  lay  back  on 
the  cushions,  puffing  the  smoke  up  in  great  clouds. 

*  Quite  a  reader !  '  he  says,  waving  his  cigar 
towards  my  book-case.  '  You  were  always  a 
chap  for  worming.' 

"  '  Frank,'  I  said,  *  we've  a  long  account  to  settle. 
Somehow  or  other  we've  always  been  antagonistic. 
Why  ? ' 

"  '  How  do  you  mean  ?  '  he  says. 

*' '  What  have  I  done  to  you,  that  you  should  be 
always  turning  up  and  queering  my  pitch  ?  ' 

" '  Oh,    you    mean    Gladys,'    he  says  laughing. 

*  No/  I  said,  '  I  don't  mean  Gladys  particularly. 
I  mean  everything.  Every  time  we  come  together 
you  do  me  a  bad  turn.' 

"  *  How  can  I  do  you  a  bad  turn  now  ?  '  he  in- 
quires blankly.  '  I  don't  know,'  I  said,  '  I  don't 
know.' 

*' '  I  can  tell  you  how  you  can  do  me  a  good  turn, 
old  man,'  he  says,  sitting  up.  '  Can't  you  get 
me  a  billet,  here  ?      Just  to  get  home,  you  know.' 

**  *  We  don't  go  home/  I  said.     *  We're  on  a  time 

o 


210  ALIENS 

charter  between  here  and  Genoa/  '  Oh,  that'll 
do/  he  says.  '  I  can  go  home  from  there  easily 
enough/ 

"  '  I  can  give  you  a  fireman's  job/  I  said,  '  or 
a  greaser's/ 

''  *  A  greaser's  !  '  he  says,  his  eyes  sparkling  at 

me.      '  You  say  that  to  me,  Charhe '     '  Easy,' 

I  said, '  if  you  shout  you'll  have  some  one  in  here. 
All  the  jobs  I  can  give  you  are  inferior.  You  have 
no  rating  on  a  ship,  Frank.  I've  had  to  work  five 
years  or  more  for  this  job.  Your  automobile 
engineering  is  no  use  to  you  here,  you  know.  You're 
down  and  out  you  said  just  now.' 

"  '  Yes,'  he  said,  '  that's  a  fact.  I  must  be 
humble  and  take  anything.  Anything,  Charhe.' 
'  Well,'  I  said,  *  I  can  give  you  a  light  easy  job 
as  steward  here  for  the  engineers.  If  you  hustle 
round  you  can  pick  it  up.  You'll  have  to  swallow 
all  your  pride,  you  know,  as  I  did  when  I  came  to 
sea.  You'll  have  to  make  beds,  tidy  up  the  rooms, 
lay  the  table,  wash  dishes.  AVill  you  do  it  ?  The 
last  one  has  just  deserted.  I  was  going  to  get  one 
to-night  if  I  hadn't  met  you.' 

"  He  lay  on  the  settee  a  long  while,  smoking  and 
looking  angrily  at  the  books  in  the  case. 

''  '  Mind,'  I  said,  *  this  is  on  condition  that  in 
Genoa  you  clear  out  and  leave  me  in  peace.  It's 
on  condition  you  sign  on  under  an  assumed  name. 
I've  a  position  here.  If  it  was  known — you  imder- 
stand.  I'm  the  chief  engineer  and  it  might  cause 
trouble.' 


ALIENS  211 

"  '  Charlie/  he  says  at  last,  '  you're  a  good  chap 
and  Tm  a  rotter.  Fm  a  bad  egg,  a  rolling  stone, 
flotsam,  garbage,  punk,  anything  you  Hke  that 
smells  to  heaven.  I  hate  myself  sometimes.  It's 
hate  of  myself  that  makes  me  desperate.  But, 
give  me  this  chance.  Perhaps  a  sea- voyage  will 
brace  me  up.  Genoa,  you  say  ?  They  speak 
French  there,  don't  they  ?  ' 

"  '  No,'  I  said, '  they  speak  Genoese.'  I  couldn't 
help  being  a  little  sarcastic  about  that.  '  But 
you'll  find  they  speak  English  at  Cook's  office.' 

"  He  looked  at  me  for  a  while,  his  big  eyes  bhnking 
through  the  smoke.  He  was  thinking,  I  suppose. 
There's  no  doubt  he  has  a  remarkably  active  mind. 
I  could  feel  he  was  taking  in  the  situation.  Sud- 
denly he  put  his  arms  up  and  stretched,  his  feet 
crushing  against  the  end  of  the  settee. 

" '  Charhe,  my  boy,'  says  he,  '  I'll  winter  in 
Italy,  that's  what  I'll  do.  It'll  be  a  change  after 
Rosario,'  he  says. 

"  '  You  can  do  as  you  please,'  I  told  him,  '  when 
you're  paid  off.'  '  Until  then,  you'll  have  to  do 
what  the  Second  Engineer  tells  you.    Understand  ?  ' 

"  '  Oh,  yes,  Charhe,  I'll  be  as  humble  as  dirt,' 
he  says. 

"Well,  he  was.  I  sent  him  ashore  with  a  few 
,  Argentine  dollars  to  get  a  bed  for  the  night,  and 
the  next  morning  he  comes  down  to  the  ship,  as 
meek  as  milk,  and  asks  the  Second  for  a  job.  I'd 
told  the  Second  about  him,  saying  he'd  been 
recommended  to  me  by  people  ashore  and  so  on. 


212  ALIENS 

I  can't  say  I  was  very  sanguine  about  the  experi- 
ment. About  the  time  in  port  I  mean.  At  sea  I 
had  no  fears.  I  knew  that  the  disciphne  of  the  sea 
would  be  more  than  a  match  for  any  brother  of 
mine. 

"  I  began  to  wonder,  as  the  days  went  on,  what 
had  become  of  the  man  who  had  sprung  up  and 
nearly  strangled  me  that  night.  It  almost  seemed 
as  though  there  was  some  mistake,  as  though  my 
brother  had  vanished  into  the  night  and  some  other 
beach  comber,  with  a  big  nose  and  dark  eyes,  had 
applied  for  the  job.  Never  by  any  sign  did  he 
let  on  that  he  had  seen  me  before.  When  I  took 
him  to  the  cabin  for  the  Skipper  to  sign  him  on, 
he  gave  the  name  of  Frank  Freshwater,  without 
batting  an  eyelid  you  might  say.  When  he'd  gone 
out  again  the  old  man  says  to  me,  '  Looks  as  though 
he'd  been  a  gentleman,  years  ago.'  I  said  I  ,. 
believed  that  was  the  case,  which  was  the  reason  1 
folks  ashore  wanted  to  help  him.  '  Ah,'  says  he, 
blotting  the  articles,  '  I  expect  he'll  run  of!  before 
we  sail.  Chief.  These  gentlemen  are  shppery 
customers.' 

"  My  brother  didn't  run  off.  Perhaps  my  pity  for  j 
him  was  thrown  away.  Perhaps  he'd  been  a  waiter 
in  some  hotel — he  never  told  me  anything  definite 
about  his  hfe.  Anyhow,  he  soon  got  into  the  way 
of  doing  the  work  of  Mess-room  Steward.  It  was 
wonderful  acting.  '  More  tea,  Frank,'  I'd  say, 
and  he'd  jump  for  my  cup — '  Yes  sir,  yes  sir.' 
It  got  on  my  mind.     Sometimes  when  I  was  sitting 


ALIENS  213 

in  my  room  smoking  and  reading,  I  would  hear  him 
behind  me  setting  something  straight,  making  the 
bed  perhaps,  fiUing  the  water  bottles,  or  cleaning 
the  brass- work  on  the  door.  He'd  never  speak 
to  me  unless  spoken  to.  If  I  said,  '  Frank,  how 
are  you  getting  on  ?  '  he'd  say,  ^  Very  well,  thanks,' 
and  go  out.  I  would  sit  there,  wondering  what  had 
got  hold  of  him.     Was  he  pulhng  my  leg  ? 

"  And  at  sea  it  was  just  the  same.  I  expected  a 
change  at  sea.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  In  a  way,  you  know, 
it's  a  lonely  life  I  had  at  sea.  It  must  be,  on  a  ship 
where  there's  brass-edging  and  rigid  disciphne.  The 
Skipper  would  take  his  walk  up  and  down  the  bridge 
deck,  and  I  would  take  mine  up  and  down  the 
awning- deck  aft.  And  having  the  curious  thing 
locked  up  in  my  breast,  so  to  speak,  it  got  on  my 
mind.  It  sounds  strange,  but  I  began  to  wish  my 
brother  would  speak  to  me.  I  began  to  recall 
how,  when  he  was  a  Httle  chap  with  long  brown 
curls,  he  would  bawl  and  storm  because  his  bricks 
fell  down.  After  all,  we  were  brothers,  eh  ?  This 
politeness  of  his  was  too  glaring.  I  felt  that  if 
he  were  to  drop  in  in  the  evening,  after  eight  bells 
say,  I  would  let  discipline  slide  enough  to  have 
a  chat.  But  no  !  It  was  he  who  stood  on  his 
dignity.  He  would  stand  there  at  meals,  watchful 
of  my  sHghtest  want,  watchful  of  everybody's 
wants,  never  saying  a  word,  rigid  as  a  statue.  When 
his  work  was  done  he'd  disappear  into  his  own 
room,  which  he  shared  with  the  Second  Cabin 
Steward  in  the  port  alleyway,  and  I  wouldn't  see 


214  '  ALIENS 

him  again  until  seven  bells  in  the  morning,  when 
he'd  come  in  with  my  tea,  open  the  wash-basin, 
draw  the  water,  set  the  towel,  light  the  spirit-lamp, 
lay  out  my  razors  and  say,  '  Twenty  past  seven, 
sir.'     Me,  his  brother  ! 

"  It  gave  me  an  insight,  more  than  anything  else 
could  have  done,  into  my  brother's  character.  I 
saw  that  his  failure  was  not  due  to  weakness,  but 
to  strength.  He  went  his  own  road.  He  had  his 
own  morahty,  his  own  code.  Indeed,  he  almost 
convinced  me  that  perhaps  for  him.  Good  and  Evil 
didn't  exist.  I  used  to  wonder  what  he  was  think- 
ing about  while  he  stood  waiting  on  us,  listening  to 
our  engine-room  gossip,  our  talk  of  ships  and  the 
sea.  Most  of  it  must  have  been  Greek  to  him,  of 
course.  If  I  stole  a  look  at  him,  he  would  glance 
round  the  table,  as  though  I  had  asked  for  some- 
thing.    It  got  on  my  mind. 

"  Twenty- five  days  of  that  sort  of  thing  was  big 
enough.  A  better  mess-room  steward  never 
shipped,  the  Second  said.  Even  the  Skipper,  just 
before  we  reached  Genoa,  remarked  to  me,  '  That 
gentleman  of  yours  is  shaping  very  well,  I  hear.' 
The  Mate  told  me  the  Head  Cattleman  said  he 
believed  that  mess-room  steward  was  a  toff  of  some 
sort  who'd  got  down  on  his  uppers  for  something. 
Everybody  noticed  that  my  brother  had  the  way 
of  it.  Nobody  ever  imagined  me  to  be  a  toff. 
Humph  ! 

"  As  we  came  up  the  Gulf  of  Lyons  I  was  thinking 
of  seeing  Rosa  again,  and  so  perhaps  I  gave  less 


ALIENS  215 

attention  to  Frank.  But  just  as  usual,  the  morning 
we  arrived,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  about 
five  o'clock,  waiting  for  the  stand-by  gong,  he  came 
in  with  coffee  and  toast.  '  I  suppose  you're  for 
the  beach  now,  Frank,'  I  said.  '  Oh  yes,'  he 
says,  '  as  soon  as  I'm  paid  off  ! '  '  You've  done 
a  damn  sight  better  than  I  expected,'  I  said,  and 
stopped  because  he  was  looking  at  me  in  a  pecuHar 
way.  He  drew  the  bunk -curtains  close,  shifted 
the  mat  straight  and  went  out.     Humph  ! 

"  I  was  busy  for  a  good  while  down  below  after  we 
were  tied  up,  for  the  Second  was  scared  of  a  bad 
place  in  one  of  the  furnaces.  When  I  came  up 
and  sent  the  Third  to  call  Frank,  he  came  back 
and  said  he'd  cleared  out.  '  Went  ashore  with 
the  Old  Man,  sir.'  Well,  I  thought,  he'll  be  down 
to  say  good-bye,  I  suppose.  I  turned  in,  so  as  to 
be  fresh  in  the  evening  for  Rosa. 

"  It  was  a  beautiful  night  at  the  end  of  October. 
Genoa  is  always  beautiful  to  my  mind,  but  that 
evening  it  was  La  Superha,  as  the  citizens  call  it. 
Right  round  the  bay  the  harbour  lights  twinkled, 
and  up  above  the  lights  of  the  city  seemed  like  a 
necklace  of  diamonds,  hung  against  the  night. 
As  the  boatman  rowed  me  ashore  I  felt  satisfied 
with  myself.  I  was  going  to  see  my  girl,  and  if  I 
thought  of  my  brother  at  all — well,  I'd  done  the 
right  thing  by  him.  I  wished  him  well.  I  intended, 
since  he  had  made  good,  to  give  him  some  money 
to  get  home  to  England  in  comfort,  if  he  wanted  to 
go.     Yes,  I  was  very  pleased  that  night. 


216  ALIENS 

"  It  wasn't  long  before  Rosa  and  I  were  in  the 
trolley  car  that  runs  along  the  Via  Milano  up  to  the 
Piazza  de  Ferrari,  where  all  the  cafes  and  theatres 
are.  I  bought  tickets  for  the  Verdi  and  then  we 
went  to  Schlitz's,  a  big  German  restaurant  in  the 
Via  Venti  Settemhre.  I  like  restaurants,  you  know. 
Old  Sam  Johnson  wasn't  so  far  out  when  he  voted 
for  a  tavern.  That's  one  thing  this  country  can't 
either  import  or  invent — a  tavern.  They  have 
the  same  name  ;  every  public  house  is  called  a 
cafe  ;   but  what  are  they  ?     Simply  pubs, 

''  We  were  coming  up  the  Via  Venti  Settemhre 
again  to  the  Verdi,  under  those  arches,  when  I 
saw  my  brother.  He  was  standing  by  a  little  table 
set  out  by  the  kerb  where  an  old  woman  was  selling 
lottery-tickets.  It  used  to  be  as  much  to  the 
Italians  as  horse -racing  is  with  English  people. 
The  evening  papers  had  the  winning  numbers  in 
the  stop-press  column.  I  saw  my  brother  put 
down  a  bill,  and  the  old  woman  gave  him  a  bunch 
of  tickets.  And  then  he  looked  up  and  saw 
us. 

"  I  ran  right  into  trouble,  you  know,  this  time. 
Somehow  or  other,  I'd  forgotten  Rosa.  I  didn't 
simply  not  try  to  avoid  him,  I  waited  for  him  to 
come  up.  It  seemed  only  the  right  and  proper 
thing.  He  came  up,  lifting  his  cap.  He'd  bought 
a  suit  of  clothes  and  a  pair  of  those  long -toed 
foreign  boots,  but  he  still  had  the  old  cap  I'd  given 
him.  Those  clothes  fitted  him  well,  I  remember, 
but  he  was  a  well-made  man  and  easy  to  fit.     The 


ALIENS  217 

coat  had  a  waist  to  it,  and  he  was  a  fine  figure  of  a 
man  as  he  came  up. 

"  I  got  a  sort  of  panic  at  the  moment  he  spoke. 
'  I'll  see  vou  to-morrow.  I'll  see  you  to-morrow,' 
I  said,  and  tried  to  draw  Rosa  away.  She  looked 
at  me  in  surprise.  '  Who  is  it  ?  '  she  asked  me  in 
Italian.  '  Never  mind,'  I  said.  '  Come  away.* 
'I'll  see  you  to-morrow.' 

"  '  Why,  Charlie  ! '  he  says.  '  You  aren't  going 
away  without  introducing  me,  surely.' 

"  I  was  in  a  cleft  stick.  All  of  a  sudden  the 
memory  of  what  he  had  done  with  Gladys  had 
rushed  over  me.  I  pulled  Rosa  away.  '  To- 
morrow,' I  kept  saying  to  Frank.  '  See  you  to- 
morrow.' He  didn't  understand,  apparently ; 
kept  up  with  us,  his  lottery  tickets  in  his  hand, 
trying  to  look  into  Rosa's  face,  and  she  hanging 
back  looking  at  him.  In  this  way  we  came  up 
to  the  Verdi  doors,  and  I  started  to  go  in. 

"  Women  are  obstinate  sometimes.  Rosa  kept 
looking  at  him  as  he  walked  beside  her,  and  before 
we  were  inside  the  vestibule  he  had  explained 
that  it  was  strange  I  wouldn't  introduce  him,  seeing 
we  were  brothers.  She  looked  at  me.  I  couldn't 
deny  he  was  my  brother.  All  I  could  do  was  to 
say,  '  Go  away,  Frank,  go  away  ! '  But  he  didn't 
go  away.  He  stood  beside  us  in  the  crowd  in  the 
vestibule  looking  down  at  us,  laughing,  and  talking, 
absolutely  at  his  ease.  As  usual  he  was  putting 
me  in  wrong  before  some  one  I  knew.  '  Why,'  he 
says,   '  even  that  silly  blue -nosed  old  bounder  of  a 


218  ALIENS 

captain  of  yours  has  given  me  a  good  character. 
Come  on,  Charlie,  be  a  sport.  Ton  my  soul, 
Charlie,  I  never  knew  you  were  much  of  a  man  with 
the  girls.  Sly  old  dog,  eh  ?  Going  to  sea  all  this 
time  and  spotting  all  the  hot -house  fruit,  eh  ?  ' 

*'  '  Frank,'  I  said,    '  this  lady  is  my  future  wife.' 

"  He  fell  away  from  us  in  his  surprise,  looked  from 
Rosa  to  me  and  back  again,  quick,  like  a  bird,  and 
then  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  My  brother  Frank  is  one  of  those  men  who 
simply  cannot  believe  in  women.  They  honestly 
do  not  believe  a  virtuous  woman  exists.  They 
strike  you  as  vicious  and  coarse,  these  men,  just 
when  they  are  trying  to  be  most  charming.  To  my 
brother  women  were  hot-house  fruit.  You  can't 
blame  such  men  altogether,  because  women  them- 
selves foster  the  idea.  They  act  more  hke  lunatics 
than  sane  people.  Their  heads  are  turned.  No, 
you  can't  blame  the  men  entirely. 

*'  My  brother  was  perfectly  sincere  when  he  burst 
out  laughing  at  me.  He  didn't  believe  me  for  a 
minute.  The  idea  of  my  '  walking- out '  with  a 
young  lady  in  Genoa  was  comic.  It  was  of  a 
piece  with  all  the  rest  of  my  damn  foolishness.  I 
never  attempted  to  explain  my  feehngs  to  him, 
and  I  don't  suppose  he  understands  to  this  day  the 
terrible  pain  his  laugh  gave  me.  You  can  reahze, 
when  I'd  been  known  to  Rosa  so  long,  that  it  would. 

"  My  brother,  somewhat  to  my  surprise,  left  it  at 
that.  He  threw  up  his  hands,  still  holding  the 
lottery-tickets,  and  turned  away.     We  went  into 


ALIENS  219 

the  theatre,  and  when  we  were  fixed  in  the  poltrone, 
seats  where  you  can  have  a  Httle  table  brought  to 
you  for  the  drinks  and  ices.  I  was  able  to  explain 
something  of  my  brother's  record  to  Rosa.  Every- 
thing I  told  her  about  him  interested  her.  Com- 
pared with  my  own  history  it  was  a  story  of  adven- 
ture indeed.  She  would  ask  questions  to  lead  me 
on.  '  What  did  he  do  then  ?  '  When  I  told  her 
simply  that  I'd  met  him  '  down  and  out '  at  Buenos 
Ayres,  she  was  so  sorry.  The  mere  trifling  fact  that 
he'd  robbed  one  woman  and  swindled  half-a-dozen 
others  didn't  matter.  Of  course  I  couldn't  tell 
her  the  details  of  Gladys'  story — he  had  me  there  ! 
And  I  wouldn't  lower  myself  to  sneak  of  him,  how 
he  tried  to  choke  me.  After  all,  I  believe  that  was 
a  mistake.  He  wouldn't  do  that  to  me  knowingly. 
So  that  you  see,  when  you  come  to  look  at  the  tale 
I  told  Rosa,  what  wasn't  downright  pathetic  and 
unfortunate  was  romantic  and  daring.  Rosa  was 
a  quiet  girl,  but  she  swallowed  that  story  like  a 
Charlotte  Russe.  We  didn't  quarrel  over  the  matter, 
but  I  could  see  she  was  thinking  of  my  brother,  a 
fine  figure  of  a  man,  by  the  way. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  now,  after  all  these  years,  that  it 
was  what  we  would  call  just  a  passing  interest.  All 
women  have  their  sudden  romantic  likings  for 
strange  men  who  catch  their  imaginations.  I 
remember  taking  tea  one  afternoon  in  the  house  of  a 
friend  on  Clapham  Common.  His  sister,  a  middle- 
aged  woman,  and  a  friend  of  hers,  middle-aged  too, 
entertained  me  until  my  friend  came  in.     These 


220  ALIENS 

two  women,  fat  and  forty,  could  talk  of  nothing 
else  for  some  time  but  a  wonderfully  nice  'bus- 
conductor  they  had  spoken  to  coming  back  from 
Eichmond.  '  Oh,  he  was  such  a  nice  man  ! '  they 
said,  and  then  they'd  look  at  each  other.  I  was 
younger  then  and  slightly  scandahzed.  Women 
are  queer.  I  suppose  in  a  week  they'd  forgotten 
his  very  existence  ;  but  at  the  time,  '  Oh,  he  was 
a  nice  man  !  '  So  it  was  with  Rosa.  Frank  had 
filled  her  imagination,  as  he  always  did ;  but  if 
she  had  not  seen  him  again  it  would  have  passed 
like  a  mist. 

"  I  don't  blame  her,  nor  even  Frank,  now.  It 
was  a  tragical  accident,  and  very  nearly  wrecked 
my  happiness.  You  may  say  I  ought  to  have  left 
him  in  Buenos  Ayres.  I  thought  so  at  one  time ; 
but  I  believe  now  it  would  have  made  no  difference. 
We  were  bound  to  meet  some  day.     It  was  fate. 

"  I  saw  Rosa  home  and  went  back  to  the  ship. 
The  Old  Man  was  going  aboard  just  as  I  came  to  the 
gangway  and  asked  me  to  go  down  and  have  a 
drink  in  his  room.  He  was  very  excited  about 
some  lottery-tickets  he  had  bought.  Skippers  and 
chiefs  go  in  for  these  things  a  good  deal.  One 
captain  in  that  employ  won  a  cool  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  Bahia  Blanca.  It  was  the  thing  to  do. 
Up  in  the  agent's  office  the  clerks  would  talk  over 
the  lottery  drawings,  and  each  skipper  would  be 
anxious  to  do  the  same  as  the  others — you  see  ? 
Well,  my  Old  Man  had  bought  fifty  tickets.  He 
was  full  of  a  system  by  which  he  picked  them. 


ALIENS  221 

Every  third  one,  then  every  third  one  again.  A 
mad  idea  !  I  thought  of  my  brother  waving  his 
bunch,  thought  of  his  picking  them  up  without 
even  looking  at  the  numbers.  I  said  to  the  Old  Man, 
'  Cap'n,  you  haven't  a  single  good  number.  I 
expect  the  man  who's  got  the  lucky  one  is  up  in 
the  city  now.'  '  Why,  how  do  you  know  ?  '  he 
said,  passing  the  soda.  '  I  just  feel  it,'  I  said.  He 
was  worried  about  that.  Gamblers  have  the  most 
peculiar  notions. 

"  Well,  he  sent  the  third  mate  ashore  just  before 
tea  to  get  the  Sera.  '  Come  on,  Chief,'  says  he, 
coming  into  my  room  where  I  was  washing,  '  let's 
go  through  the  numbers.  I'm  just  crazy  to  prove 
you  wrong.'  '  Where  did  you  buy  them  ?  '  I 
asked.  '  Outside  the  Verdi,''  he  told  me.  We 
went  through  them.  I  read  out  the  numbers  of  his 
tickets  while  he  compared  them  with  those  in  the 
paper.  His  highest  number  was  some  two  hundred 
thousand,  two  hundred  and  fifty- one,  I  remember. 
And  the  last  winning  number  in  the  paper  was  that 
same  number  of  thousands,  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
two.  He  dashed  the  paper  on  the  floor.  '  Darn  !  ' 
he  says,  '  why  didn't  I  take  one  more.  Think  o' 
that,  Chief  ! '  What  was  the  use  of  thinking  of  it  ? 
'  I'm  not  surprised,'  I  said,  '  though  it  is  aggra- 
vating.'    Humph  ! 

"  Half  way  down  that  splendid  new  street,  one 
of  the  finest  in  Europe,  the  Via  Venti  Settembre, 
and  not  far  from  Schhtz's  Restaurant,  is  Bertohni's 
Bristol  Hotel.    Rosa  and  I  were  walking  down 


222  ALIENS 

past  it  that  night,  on  our  way  to  Acqiiasole,  where 
there  was  a  band,  when  Frank  came  out.  A  cab 
stood  at  the  kerb,  and  he  was  making  for  it  when  he 
saw  us  and  bore  down  on  us.  He  was  dazzhng. 
He  had  a  big  ulster  and  he  was  in  evening  dress. 
*  Now,  Charhe,  my  boy,  this  is  the  Hmit.  I  was 
coming  to  see  you.  Come  and  dine  with  me  at  the 
Ronia/  and  he  dragged  us  to  the  cab. 

"  Yes,  his  luck  was  back.  He'd  picked  up  the 
winning  number,  the  one  the  Old  Man  had  left. 
Ten  thousand  francs  !  He  wasn't  going  to  wait 
for  the  State  to  shell  out.  He  just  went  to  the 
Russian  Bank  in  the  Piazza  Carnpetto  and  dis- 
counted the  ticket  for  cash.  In  one  flash  he'd 
earned  more  than  I  earned  in  a  couple  of  years. 
Yes,  he  was  going  to  winter  in  Italy,  he  said .  Naples, 
Rome,  Florence,  Bologna,  Venice  ;  then  Paris  and 
London.  Before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing  I  was 
standing  outside  of  the  Roma  watching  him  help 
Rosa  out  of  the  cab.  He  carried  things  with  a 
rush.  Nothing  too  good  for  him.  This  was  his 
natural  element,  luxury,  excitement,  whiz  and  snap. 
What  a  man  ! 

"  Again,  I  say,  I  don't  blame  Rosa.  What  girl 
wouldn't  be  fascinated  by  such  a  man  ?  I  had  never 
realized  before  how  charming  a  man  could  be. 
What  had  I  to  offer  a  woman  to  compare  ^vith  him  ? 
In  a  few  hours  he  had  picked  up  enough  Itahan  to 
patter  with.  Rosa  spoke  EngUsh,  it  is  true,  but 
what  jokes  he  got  out  of  his  Itahan  !  How  he 
talked  !     There  was  I,  just  as  I  am  now,  blue  serge 


ALIENS  223 

and  rather  a  plain  little  man,  nothing  special  any- 
way. I  was  forgotten.  The  waiters  took  no  more 
notice  of  me,  than  if  Fd  been  a  portmanteau.  And 
yet  in  the  bank  I  had  much  more  money  than 
Frank.  Ah !  but  he  was  flashing  it.  Didn't 
they  run  ! 

"  I  tried  to  have  it  out  with  Rosa  as  we  went 
down  to  the  Via  Milano  that  night.  Perhaps  I  was 
unreasonable.  Perhaps  I  showed  jealousy — a 
fooHsh  thing  to  do.  We  parted  rather  cross  with 
each  other.  You  see,  Fd  never  spent  money  hke 
water  on  her.     I  was  saving  to  have  a  home. 

"  I  had  rather  a  hard  day  following.  The  boilers 
had  to  be  gone  through,  and  that's  a  job  I  never 
leave  to  the  Second.  The  boilers  are  the  vitals 
of  a  ship.  I  don't  care  what  happens  in  the  engine- 
room  so  long  as  my  boilers  are  all  right.  And  so  I 
was  a  bit  late  getting  away  at  night.  I  went  along 
to  Rebecca's.  Rosa  was  serving  in  the  cafe,  and 
I  began  to  grumble  to  Rebecca.  I  told  her  that 
if  necessary  I  would  pay  for  some  one  else  to  do  that 
work  until  we  were  married.  Not  that  the  chaps 
annoyed  Rosa  now  that  she  was  engaged,  but  I 
didn't  Hke  the  idea  of  it.  Rebecca  said  Rosa  was 
doing  it  of  her  own  accord.  She  said  she  didn't 
know  what  had  come  over  the  girl.  Rosa  came 
upstairs,  and  when  I  told  her  not  to  go  into  the 
cafe,  she  said  she'd  do  as  she  Hked.  She  said  she 
didn't  want  to  go  out  that  evening  ;  would  rather 
stay  at  home.     We  had  words  ... 

"  I  left  in  a  huff,  I  suppose,  and  went  back  to  the 


224  ALIENS 

ship.  I  felt  badly  used.  The  Old  Man  came  along 
to  my  room  and  spent  a  couple  of  hours  telling  me 
how  that  chap  who'd  been  in  the  mess-room  had 
won  ten  thousand  francs.  There  were  all  sorts 
of  frills  to  the  story  as  he  knew  it.  One  of  the 
clerks  at  the  agent's  had  told  him  that  the  man  was 
an  Enghsh  milord.  That  was  a  bit  of  my  brother's 
cleverness.  He  had  registered  at  the  Bristol  as 
Francis  Lord.  Of  course  the  papers  had  made  the 
most  of  it. 

"  For  two  days  I  never  went  ashore.  I  was  an- 
noyed at  Eosa.  You  know,  these  Uttle  tifis  are 
inevitable,  though  I  must  say  we'd  managed  without 
them  up  to  this.  I  said  to  myself  that  when  she 
wanted  me  again  she  could  have  me.  The  mood 
lasted  two  days.  I  began  to  get  anxious.  I 
couldn't  rest.  After  all,  we  were  engaged.  The 
ship  went  home  for  survey  next  voyage,  it  was 
rumoured,  and  I  had  promised  Eosa  we  should  go 
together.  I  put  on  my  shore-clothes  and  went 
up  to  Eebecca's.  I  went  in  to  have  a  drink  first, 
intending  to  go  round  to  the  private  door  after- 
wards. Just  as  I  sat  down  Eebecca  came  in  and 
saw  me.  She  beckoned  me  to  come  inside.  We 
went  upstairs.  *  What's  the  matter  ? '  I  said. 
'  Eosa !  '  says  Eebecca.  '  She  went  out  this 
evening  to  meet  you,  she  said,  and  she's  not 
back  yet.' 

"  For  a  moment  I  couldn't  quite  see  the  drift. 
Perhaps  I'm  slow.  But  then  I  reahzed  what 
might  have   happened.     I  took  my  hat  and  ran 


ALIENS  225 

downstairs.  Outside  a  carriage  was  crawling  past. 
I  jumped  into  it  and  told  the  man  to  drive  all  he 
knew  to  the  Bristol.  It's  a  stif!  cHmb,  but  those 
two  horses  tore  along  the  Principe,  past  the  station, 
through  Piazza  Caricarnento,  up  Via  Lorenzo,  full 
tilt.  I  jumped  out  and  ran  into  the  hotel  and  asked 
for  the  manager.  I  described  my  brother  as  well 
as  I  could.  *  Yes,  yes/  he  said,  *  that  would  be 
Signore  Lord.'  He  had  just  paid  his  bill  and  gone. 
He  was  to  get  the  Twenty-fifteen  for  ]\Iilan.  The 
commissionaire  said  the  Signore  Lord  had  driven 
to  the  Brignole  station,  though  he  had  been  advised 
to  go  to  the  Principe,  where  he  could  get  a  better 
seat.  I  gave  the  man  a  franc  and  bolted  out  again. 
*  Stazione  Brignole,'  I  told  the  man,  and  away  we 
went.  The  *  Twenty-fifteen  '  would  be  there  in 
about  ten  minutes.  Five  minutes  later  I  was  in 
the  dreary,  half-Kghted,  bare-looking  waiting- 
room.  There  was  only  one  person  in  sight.  It 
was  Kosa.'' 

Mr.  Carville  paused  and  raised  his  head.  We 
became  aware  of  some  one  calling.  I  turned  and 
beheld  Mrs.  Carville  standing,  her  hands  on  her  hips, 
at  her  door.  She  was  calHng  to  her  husband  in 
a  clear,  strong  vibrant  voice.  With  a  slight 
shrug,  he  rose. 

"  Si,  si,  Rosa,"  he  rephed  equably,  and  then  to 
us  he  smiled  and,  raising  his  hat,  set  it  well  over 
his  eyes.     He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Gee  !  "  he  said,  "  I  must  be  off.     I'll  have  to 

p 


226  ALIENS 

finish    the    yarn    another   time.     Good    day    to 


you." 


Looking  down  at  his  boots  for  a  moment  re- 
flectively, and  pocketing  his  pipe,  he  stepped  down 
and  walked  sedately  towards  his  house. 


CHAPTER  X 

Another  Letter  from  Wigborough 

For  a  few  moments  we  sat  still,  oblivious  of  the 
flight  of  time.  The  afternoon  sun  threw  long 
shadows  across  the  road.  Mrs.  Wederslen  flew 
past  in  her  automobile,  inclining  her  haughty 
southern  head  as  she  sat,  erect  and  dominant, 
behind  the  steering-wheel.  The  rumble  of  the 
trolley-cars  came  up  on  the  still  air  from  the  valley. 
My  friend  and  I  looked  at  each  other  and  knocked 
out  our  pipes. 

I  do  not  think  that,  had  we  been  left  to  ourselves, 
we  would  have  broken  the  silence  for  a  long  time. 
Mr.  Carville's  retreat  had  been  so  sudden  that  we 
could  scarcely  reaHze  he  was  gone,  that  we  might 
not  see  him  again  for  perhaps  two  months.  Time 
was  needed,  moreover,  for  us  to  adjust  our  feelings 
towards  him,  to  comprehend  fully  the  pecuHar 
circumstances  that,  while  we  had  been  Ustening 
to  the  story  of  Rosa,  she  herself  had  been  in  the 
next  house.  We  had  to  connect  the  Genoese 
maiden  with  the  reserved  and  taciturn  neighbour 
who  had  given  us  food  for  so  many  conjectures. 
Jior  would  our  resen.tment  against  Mr.  Carville,  for 

^27 


228  ALIENS 

breaking  ojS  so  abruptly,  have  taken  the  form  of 
speech  all  at  once.  We  were  too  dazed.  We 
wanted  to  think.  We  would  not,  I  say,  have 
broken  the  silence  for  a  long  time  ourselves.  But 
Miss  Fraenkel's  temperament  was  different,  and 
in  this  case  surprising. 

With  Miss  Fraenkel  silent  thought,  I  imagine,  is 
not  a  habit.  With  her  to  think  is  to  speak.  The 
effervescent  enthusiasm  of  her  nature  makes  speech 
indispensable.  I  do  not  believe  that,  during  the 
two-and-a-half -hour  recital  of  Mr.  Carville,  Miss 
Fraenkel  had  any  coherent  thoughts.  More  than 
any  other  women  the  American  woman  avoids  the 
cooler  levels  of  intellectual  judgment.  In  one 
moment  she  stands,  nude  of  the  commonest  know- 
ledge of  a  person  or  a  thing.  In  a  moment  more, 
and  she  appears  before  your  astonished  eyes, 
panoplied  in  all  the  glittering  harness  of  a  glowing 
conviction.  Minerva -like,  her  opinions  and  beliefs 
spring  full -armed  from  the  head  and  front  of  her 
great  Jove  Intuition.  Logic,  says  the  ancient 
platitude,  hangs  by  the  end  of  a  philosopher's 
beard ;  and  an  American  woman  would  as  soon 
grow  hair  on  her  face  as  admit  reason  to  her  soul. 
Therein,  doubtless,  lies  her  charm,  her  artless 
allurement,  her  enigmatic  manner,  her  astonishing 
success. 

Something  of  this  was  apparent  in  Miss  Fraenkel 
as  she  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  met  our  gaze 
with  delighted  eyes. 

"  Isn't  he  just  won-der-ful  ?  "  she  chanted. 


ALIENS  229 

"  You  enjoyed  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh  sure  !  But  listen.  I've  got  a  plan.  Why 
can't  you  two  make  it  into  a  book  ?  It  'ud 
be  perfectly  lovely  !  You  know,  Mr.  Legge,  you're 
quite  an  artist,  aren't  you  ?  And  Mr.  Pedderick 
here,  he  does  some  writing.  Oh  I'm  sure  you 
could  do  it !  You  know  ..."  Miss  Fraenkel 
made  a  pause  luminous  with  bright  glances,  "  a 
picture  of  those  two,  in  the  cafe  having  a  dinner ; 
a  real  kissing  picture.  I'm  sure  she  would  look 
so  sweet !  " 

Mac  and  I  kept  our  eyes  resolutely  upon  the  tops 
of  Manhattan.  I  doubt  if  either  of  us  were  qualified 
to  deal  with  such  a  situation.  Mac  had  been  told 
before  by  approving  natives,  that  he  was  ''  quite 
an  artist,"  and  I  knew  how  he  relished  such  patron- 
age. And  a  lady  in  California  had  blandly  inquired 
of  me  if  I  "  went  in  for  reading  "  much.  We  were 
inured  to  this.  We  might  even  have  made  a  joke 
of  it  and  faced  Miss  Fraenkel  unflinchingly,  had 
not  the  thought  struck  us  almost  at  once,  that 
Miss  Fraenkel' s  plan  had  in  it  the  elements  of 
feasibility.  Bill,  rising  to  put  the  kettle  on, 
uttered  our  unspoken  thought. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  she,  "  but  what's  the  end  of  the 
story  ?  " 

"  Why  sure  !  "  faltered  Miss  Fraenkel.  ''  They 
get — get  married  !  That's  the  end  of  every  English 
story,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Bill  cackled  from  the  kitchen,  artlessly  and 
shrill.     " and  lived  happy  ever  after  !  "  added 


230  ALIENS 

Miss  Fraenkel,  with  radiant  unwinking  hazel 
eyes. 

She  went  away  after  tea,  to  her  pew  in  the 
gaunt  wooden  Episcopal  Church  in  Chestnut 
Street,  rapt  in  a  felicitous  dream  of  romanticism. 
It  was  nothing  to  her  that  Mr.  Carviile  had  poured 
diluted  vitriol  upon  some  women  who  clamoured 
for  the  vote,  nothing  that  he  had  barely  deigned 
to  notice  her  existence.  Once  aware  that  he 
essayed  to  be  a  spell-binder,  she  accepted  him  with 
utter  abandon  in  that  role.  She  permitted  him 
to  bind  the  spell ;  and  as  she  walked  with  short 
quick  steps  along  Van  Diemen's  Avenue,  her 
brown  head  held  high  and  unswerving,  I  could  not 
refrain  from  the  fancy  that  she  moved  as  one  in  a 
trance. 

It  was  a  disappointment  to  us  that  we  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  five  o'clock  train  before  we  reahzed 
that  Mr.  Carviile  was  on  board.  The  sound  was 
the  one  thing  needful  to  set  our  mind  and  tongues 
free  to  talk  of  him.  So  potent  had  been  his 
atmosphere  that,  to  be  honest,  we  had  been  unable 
to  apply  judgment  to  his  case.  When  we  gathered 
at  dinner  the  discussion  was  in  full  and  amiable 
swing. 

"  It  is  very  difficult,"  I  said,  "  to  distinguish  the 
fact  from  the  fiction,  not  because  he  is  extra- 
ordinarily skilful  in  '  joining  his  flats,'  but  because 
he  is  so  absorbed  in  the  story  himself  that  it  would 
be  quite  inconceivable  to  him  that  anyone  would 
not  be  interested.     He  has  evidently  never  imagined 


ALIENS  231 

such  a  contingency.  Such  ingenuousness  is  more 
than  uncommon.     It  is  sublime." 

"  How  about  your  theory  that  he  is  an  artist  ?  " 
argued  Mac.  "  He  can't  be  both  conscious  and 
unconscious  of  his  art." 

'^  Yes  he  can,"  I  rephed.  "  All  great  artists  are. 
Mind,  I  don't  pretend  that  Mr.  Carville  is  a  great 
artist.  I  merely  state  the  fact  that  he  has  one  of 
their  attributes.  I  account  for  it  this  way.  We 
have  here  a  man  of  undeniable  powers  but  hmited 
ambition.  At  certain  periods  in  his  Hfe  he  has 
been  crossed  by  his  remarkable  brother,  a  man 
whom  we  now  know  to  have  not  only  brain-power, 
but  will-power.  This  brother  has  impressed  him- 
self upon  our  neighbour's  imagination.  You 
noticed  almost  admiration  in  his  voice  at  times  as 
he  spoke  of  his  brother  ?  It  has  been  his  whim, 
therefore,  to  accentuate  as  much  as  possible  the 
difference  between  them.  He  has,  moreover,  cul- 
tivated the  habit  of  reticence.  Thrown  by  his 
profession  among  men  of  shrewd  wit  but  imperfect 
dehcacy  of  mind,  he  has  kept  himself  to  himself. 
In  the  course  of  years  it  has  been  almost  necessary 
for  him  to  speak.  I  can  imagine  him,  a  man  of 
quick  perceptions,  and  no  mean  gift  of  expression, 
finding  silence  becoming  an  agony.  Much  brooding 
has  bitten  the  real  and  fanciful  details  of  his  hfe 
into  his  mind.  He  has,  quite  by  accident,  dis- 
covered in  us  a  singularly  acceptable  audience. 
Without  conscious  premeditation  he  has  told  us  his 
story.     Every  narrator  of  the  most  trivial  incident 


232  ALIENS 

can  induce  you  to  listen  for  something  naive  and 
individual  in  his  utterance.  Most  of  us  disperse 
this  quality  over  our  days.  Mr.  Carville  has 
secreted  it,  distilled  it  to  a  quintessence,  and  the 
result  is — well,  something  in  his  tone  and  manner 
quite  unusual." 

"  Yes  that's  all  right  enough,"  assented  Mac, 
"  but  I  still  don't  quite  see  how  his  brother  couples- 
up  with  that  chap  Cecil  wrote  about." 

"Well,  I  don't  either,"  I  replied,  ''but  you 
must  remember  that  Mr.  Carville  has  told  us  so 
far  only  of  the  past.  In  his  narrative  he  is  not 
married.  That  must  be  at  least  eight  years  ago, 
a  long  time  in  the  life  of  a  man  like  his  brother." 

"  I'll  write  to  Cecil,"  said  Bill  suddenly,  with 
one  of  her  flashes.  "  Wouldn't  that  be  a  good 
plan  ?  " 

"Excellent!"  I  exclaimed.  "We  ought  to 
have  thought  of  that  before.  He  will  be  tremen- 
dously interested." 

This  was  a  true  prophecy.  Some  three  weeks 
later,  on  a  day  in  the  middle  of  November,  we 
received  a  bulky  letter  with  a  Wigborough  post- 
mark on  a  two- cent  stamp.  The  excess,  I  recall, 
was  nine  cents,  gladly  paid  by  me  while  Bill  was 
tearing  of!  the  end  of  the  envelope. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  scanning  the  sheets  quickly, 
"  it  seems  to  be.     Here " 

We  adjourned  to  the  studio.  Mac  seated  himself 
before  a  half-finished  cover  for  the  Christmas 
Number  of  Payne's  Monthly,  Bill  took  up  a  leather 


ALIENS  233 

collar-bag  destined  to  be  Cecil's  Yule-tide  present, 
and  I  began  to  read. 

"  High  Wigborough,  Essex. 

"  My  Dear  Bill,— Many  thanks  for  your  jolly 
letter.  I  write  at  once  to  tell  you  how  awfully 
interested  I  am  in  what  you  tell  me.  It  really  is  a 
most  extraordinary  thing,  though  as  you  know 
it  often  happens.  On  the  very  day  your  letter 
arrived  I  met  Carville  again  !  Without  any  warn- 
ing I  heard  the  chuff-chuff  of  a  motor  in  the  lane, 
and  saw  him  walking  up  to  the  door.  I  asked 
him  in,  of  course,  He  sniffed  and  coughed  a  good 
bit,  because  I  was  biting  a  big  plate,  and  the  fumes 
are  pretty  thick  even  with  nitric  acid.  He  wanted 
to  know  all  about  what  I  was  doing.  Of  course 
I  explained,  asked  him  to  sit  down  and  have  a 
drink,  and  for  a  time  we  got  on  very  well.  I  said 
I  supposed  he  was  touring,  and  he  remarked : 

** '  Oh,  no.     I'm  living  down  here  just  at  present/ 

"  '  What,  broke  again  ?  '  I  asked  laughing.  He 
looked  at  me  in  that  fiery  damn-your-eyes  way  of 
his  and  then  joined  in  the  laugh.  '  No,'  he  said, 
*  experimenting.     IVe  taken  up  flying.' 

"  He  said  it  just  as  you  might  say,  '  Fve  taken 
up  tennis. '  He  gives  you  the  impression  that  if 
he  remarked  that  he  had  taken  up  cathedral- 
building  or  unicorn-breeding,  you  would  beheve 
him.     A  most  remarkable  man  ! 

"  I  said,  '  Oh,  IVe  heard  something  about  your 
people,   I  beheve,   Carville/   and    took  up   your 


234  ALIENS 

letter.  He  put  his  whisky  down  on  the  floor 
(he  was  sitting  in  my  low  window  seat)  and  glared 
at  me.  '  At  least/  I  said,  funking  you  know,  '  I 
see  it's  the  same  name.'  And  I  went  on  to  tell 
him  how  Td  been  so  impressed  with  my  first 
adventure  with  him  that  Fd  written  to  you  about 
it.  He  held  out  his  hand  tor  the  letter.  I  just 
sat  and  watched  him.  He  read  the  whole  thing 
rapidly,  his  eyes  going  back  again  and  again  to 
some  parts  of  it ;   and  then  he  gave  it  back  to  me. 

"  '  So  that's  where  he  is,  eh  ?  '  he  said  and 
smiled.  He  took  out  a  pocket-book  and  made  a 
note  of  the  address. 

"  '  Who,'  I  said. 

"  '  Charhe,  dear  old  Charlie,'  he  said,  '  I  haven't 
seen  him  or  heard  from  him  for  years.' 

"  *  Then  it  is  your  brother  ?  '  I  asked.  He 
nodded. 

"  '  He  always  was  a  bit  of  a  duffer,'  he  said. 
*  What's  N.J.  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

**  '  New  Jersey,'  1  rephed,  '  in  the  United  States.' 

*'  He  shut  up  his  pocket-book  and  said  no  more 
about  it.  Cool,  eh  ?  I  wanted  to  ask  him  no  end 
of  questions  about  his  past  hfe,  but  didn't  care  to. 
He  was  ready  enough  to  talk  of  his  experiments 
though,  and  asked  me  to  go  over  to  Mersea  Island 
to  see  his  shop.  '  Thanks,  I  will  some  time,'  I 
said.  '  Come  now  !  '  he  rapped  out,  and  that  was 
what  I  did.  Took  the  plates  out,  washed  my 
hands,  and  scarcely  remembered  to  stopper  the 
acid-bottle.   Away  we  went,  tooling  through  Peldon 


ALIENS  235 

at  about  seventy  miles  an  hour.  He  is  certainly  a 
superb  driver.  Down  our  lane  that  big  car  of  his 
brushed  the  hedge  both  sides,  but  he  never  slackened 
at  all,  either  in  his  speed  or  his  conversation.  He 
had  several  wealthy  people  interested,  he  said,  and 
he  was  going  to  do  something  really  big  in  the 
flying  line.  We  were  nearly  flying  at  the  time.  Of 
course  there  aren't  many  people  about  this  part  of 
Essex,  but  it  really  was  risky.  He  said  this  London- 
to-Paris  and  London-to-Manchester  business  was 
all  '  tosh/  he  was  going  to  beat  that  all  to  fluff. 
We  crossed  Mersea  Island,  turned  in  at  a  five-barred 
gate,  and  rushed  up  a  hundred-yard  plank-road 
that  he  had  put  down. 

"  It  is  a  curious  place  he  has  there.  A  big  shed 
of  creosote-boards  and  felt  roof,  in  the  shape  of  a 
letter  L,  and  at  the  side  a  small  lean-to  affair 
where  he  hves.  One  leg  of  the  L  is  a  workshop 
with  an  oil-engine  to  drive  it ;  the  other  is  for  his 
plane,  and  opens  at  the  end  on  the  plank-road. 
As  we  came  up  a  tall  chap  in  a  yellow  leather  suit  all 
smeared  with  oil  came  out  and  I  was  introduced  to 
his  friend  D'Aubigne.  Can  you  beheve  it,  old 
girl — ^D'Aubigne  and  I  were  in  Paris  together  ! 
He  had  a  thing  in  the  Salon  the  same  year  as  I  did, 
but  having  money  he  chucked  Art  and  went  in  for 
motoring.  We  fraternized  at  once.  It  shows  you 
what  a  small  and  sectional  thing  fame  is,  for  while 
he  had  never  heard  of  me,  I  was  equally  ignorant 
of  his  tremendous  importance  as  an  authority  on 
aerial  statics.    Never  heard  of  aerial  statics  before, 


236  ALIENS 

for  that  matter !  Carville  seemed  quite  pleased  I 
knew  D'Aubigne,  and  showed  no  hesitation  in 
turning  me  over  to  him. 

"  Well,  I  went  all  over  and  it  was  really  very 
interesting.  The  position  seems  to  be  this. 
D'Aubigne  has  tons  of  ideas  and  patents  and  can 
make  no  end  of  improvements  in  aeroplanes,  but 
he  has  no  nerve.  Several  times  he  told  me,  he  had 
had  narrow  squeaks.  Now  Carville,  so  D'Aubigne 
says,  has  a  head  like  a  gyroscope.  He  doesn't  know 
what  fear  is.  Seeing  what  I  had  of  him,  I  can 
quite  believe  it.  So  having  met  some  years  ago 
in  Venice  (D'Aubigne  seemed  frightfully  amused 
at  something  that  had  happened  in  Venice)  when 
Carville  suddenly  found  himself  able  to  command  a 
large  capital,  he  had  D'Aubigne  over,  and  between 
them  they  are  going  to  boom  a  new  long-distance 
machine.  D'Aubigne's  admiration  of  Carville 
almost  amounts  to  worship.  He  told  me  that 
when  Carville  went  over  his  place  at  Avranches, 
he  spent  about  ten  minutes  looking  over  a  mono- 
plane, and  then  cHmbed  into  the  seat.  *  Set  it 
away,'  he  said.  D'Aubigne  was  perplexed.  '  This 
won't  carry  two,'  he  argued.  '  No,'  said  Carville, 
'  I'm  going  to  try  it  by  myself.  Set  it  away.'  I 
have  told  you  how  domineering  he  is.  D'Aubigne 
started  the  engine,  and  so  he  says,  crossed  himself. 
Carville  was  off,  and  in  another  minute  he  was 
heading  for  St.  Malo.  D'Aubigne  says  some  of 
his  volplanes  were  agonizing  to  watch.  When 
he  turned  he  went  out  over  the  sea,  but  it  seems 


ALIENS  237 

this  was  not  because  lie  was  afraid  of  falling,  but 
because  he  wanted  to  get  a  nearer  view  of  a  steam 
yacht  riding  off  Granville.  He  came  down  on  the 
shingle  and  smashed  the  thing  badly,  but  he  was 
busy  studying  the  wreck  when  they  came  up  to  him. 
It  never  occurred  to  Carville  to  cross  himself. 
D'Aubigne  is  a  big  yellow-haired  Norman,  and  his 
eyes  fairly  goggle  when  he  gets  going  on  Carville. 
Personally  I  believe  they've  both  been  bad  eggs 
in  their  time.  When  I  spoke  to  him  of  your  letter 
he  pulled  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and 
wrinkled  his  nose.  '  Ah  ! '  he  said,  '  It's  quite 
possible.  Many  things  happen  to  men  Hke  Carville. 
You  know  he  was  in  the  war  with  the  Boers  ?  '  I 
said,  no  I  didn't,  and  he  told  me  that  Carville  had 
rushed  to  South  Africa,  just  as  thousands  of  others 
had  done.  He,  however,  had  the  devil's  own  luck  ; 
saved  an  officer's  life,  a  man  in  the  Imperial 
Yeomanry,  named  Cholme.  Cholme  was  a  pal 
of  Belvoir's  at  Charterhouse.  It  seems  Cholme 
gave  Carville  a  letter  to  Lord  Cholme,  in  case  any- 
thing happened,  you  know.  Something  did  happen 
and  Cholme  was  killed  at  Spion  Kop.  Carville 
never  got  a  scratch.  AVhen  he  came  home  he  took 
the  letter  to  Lord  Cholme,  and  the  old  chap  told 
him  to  ask  what  he  liked.  The  old  man  is  a  pretty 
rough  employer  (he  owns  The  Morning),  but  he 
had  a  royal  way  with  his  son.  Carville  said  he 
didn't  want  anything,  but  might  have  a  favour 
to  ask  some  day.  Well,  it  seems  it  was  an  interview 
with  Cholme  that  he  was  after  when  I  met  him  in 


238  ALIENS 

Huntingdonshire,  but  he  has  his  own  ideas  of  the 
way   to   do   these   things.     He   approached   Lord 
Cholme,   not   with   a   begging -letter,    but   with   a. 
proposal  to  finance  this  aeroplane  scheme.     Cholme 
jumped  at  it,  D'Aubigne  says. 

"  We  were  standing  in  the  workshop  watching  a 
young  chap  fitting  a  piece  of  a  new  engine,  when 
we  heard  the  roar  of  the  aeroplane.  Car\dlle  had 
started  his  engine  before  opening  the  doors.  It 
was  deafening.  We  got  outside  just  in  time  to  see 
him  leave  the  ground.  He  made  straight  for  the 
sea.  D'Aubigne  says  he  always  does  make 
straight  for  the  sea.  He  may  come  back  from 
over  Dengie  Flats  or  St.  Osyth,  but  he  always 
makes  for  Gunfleet  and  Kentish  Knock  Lightship 
at  first. 

"  D'Aubigne  went  into  the  drawing-office  where 
he  works  out  his  calculations  and  all  that,  and  he 
got  out  a  flask  of  Benedictine.  Over  this,  he  told 
me  some  rather  startling  things  about  Carville. 
D'Aubigne  knows  nothing  about  the  girl  you  say 
is  called  Rosa,  but  in  addition  to  a  dozen  other 
more  shadowy  creatures,  he  says  there  is  a  Gladys 
not  far  off,  a  thin  girl  of  about  thirty.  Of  course, 
D'Aubigne  is  a  Frenchman  and  takes  the  French 
view,  but  it  certainly  seems  to  be  a  fact  that 
Carville  makes  a  hobby  of  women. 

'^  Since  then  I  have  seen  him  frequently.  Some- 
times he  and  D'Aubigne  come  over  to  tea  with  me, 
and  if  I  would  let  them  they  would  take  me  for  long 
spins  across  England.     They  work  in  spurts,  and 


ALIENS  239 

then  shut  the  place  up  for  a  day  and  tear  round 
the  country.  Once  I  heard  the  roar  of  a  car  and 
looked  out  in  time  to  see  Carville  rush  past,  and 
there  was  undoubtedly  a  girl  with  him.  Once,  too, 
I  saw  him  in  the  air,  far  away  over  Layer  Marney, 
going  towards  Colchester.  D'Aubigne  says  their 
machine  will  be  ready  soon.  As  far  as  I  can  make 
out,  whatever  they  do,  Tlie  Morning  is  to  have 
exclusive  information. 

"  Do  you  know,  it  suddenly  struck  me  that  an 
aeroplane  lends  itself  extraordinarily  well  to  etch- 
ing ?  Car\alle  missed  the  plank -road  one  day  in 
landing,  and  I  saw  the  machine  lying  with  a  list 
in  the  field  near  a  rick.  I  made  some  notes,  and 
when  it  is  finished  I'll  pull  a  proof  and  send  it  to 
you.  I  fancy  it  will  be  rather  good.  In  the  clear 
transparent  afternoon  light  of  a  late  October  day, 
with  the  rick  behind  it,  the  great  vans  sprawled 
out  over  the  hedge,  the  corrugations  of  the  engine, 

the  thin  lines Do  you  see  it  ?     I  think  very 

highly  of  it.  An  aeroplane  has  a  personaHty,  Hke 
Carville. 

"  Well,  now  you  must  send  me  news  of  your 
side.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what  he  is  going  to 
do,  but  D'Aubigne  says  that  is  a  secret.  One 
thing  he  has  told  me,  and  that  is  that  they  are 
going  to  fit  the  machine  with  a  wireless  telephone 
so  that  he  can  talk  to  The  Morning  office  while  he 
is  flying.     Wonders  will  never  cease  ! 

"  I  like  Mac's  colour  prints.  The  effect  of  the 
sky  over  the  steamer  is  quite  topping.     Where 


240  ALIENS 

painting  in  oil  on  a  copper  plate  seems  to  fail  is  in 
the  detail.  The  colour  spreads  so.  The  red  port 
light  of  the  vessel  is  much  too  large.  However,  I 
shall  certainly  spoil  some  paper  trying  to  out -do 
Mac. 

"  Kind  regards  to  all.     Write  soon, 

"  Yours  ever, 
"  Cecil." 

As  I  folded  up  the  sheets  and  thrust  them  into 
the  envelope,  Mac  looked  across  at  me.  Seeing 
that  I  had  no  inkHng  of  his  thought  he  remarked 
with  some  slight  irritation  : 

"  Wonder  when  the  deuce  that  chap's  coming 
back  ?  " 

"  Where's  he  gone  ? "  asked  Bill,  holding  up 
the  pocket-book  to  see  the  effect. 

We  did  not  even  know  that. 

*'  Oh,"  I  said,  "  Mediterranean,  I  suppose." 

To  us  the  Mediterranean  is  a  far-off  beauti- 
ful dream.  We  sat  trying  to  visualize  for  ourselves 
the  incredible  fate  of  visiting  the  Mediterranean 
as  we  might  take  the  cars  for  Broadway.  I  heard 
Bill  sigh  softly.  Mac's  voice,  when  he  spoke,  was 
gruff. 

"  rd  ask  the  kids  if  I  were  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  can  do  that,"  I  agreed  dreamily. 

Sometimes,  it  must  be  admitted,  we  get  homesick. 
It  generally  happens  when  we  have  letters  from 
home.  We  felt  rather  keenly,  just  then,  the  shrewd 
poignancy  of  Mr.  Carville's  description  of  himself 


ALIENS  241 

as  an  alien.  But  to  us  it  implied  a  subdued  if 
passionate  desire  to  see  again  the  quiet  landscape 
of  England.  The  painter-cousin's  sketch  of  the 
aeroplane  near  a  rick,  sunk  in  the  ditch  by  a  hedge, 
in  the  clear  transparent  afternoon  Hght  of  late 
October,  appealed  to  us.  To  see  a  quickset  hedge 
again  ...  we  sighed. 

No  doubt  we  would  have  allowed  the  daily  flow 
and  return  of  life's  business  to  oust  our  neighbours' 
fortunes  from  our  minds,  and  waited  patiently  for 
Mr.  Carville's  reappearance,  had  not  a  most  ex- 
citing game  of  cow-boys,  a  game  in  which  I  for  the 
nonce  was  a  fleeing  Indian  brave,  led  to  an  abrupt 
encounter  with  Mrs.  Carville.  Benvenuto  CelHni's 
scalp  already  hung  at  my  girdle,  visible  as  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  ;  and  he  lay  far  down  near  the  cab- 
bages, to  the  imaginative  eye  a  writhing  and 
disgusting  spectacle.  The  intrepid  Giuseppe 
Mazzini,  however,  had  thrown  his  lariat  about  me 
with  no  mean  adroitness,  and  I  was  down  and 
captured.  This  thrilling  deyiouement  was  enacted 
near  the  repaired  fence,  and  any  horror  I  may 
have  simulated  was  suddenly  made  real  by  the 
appearance  of  Mrs.  Carville,  who  had  been  feeding 
her  fowls.  When  one  is  prone  on  the  grass,  a 
clothes-line  drawn  tight  about  one's  arms,  and  a 
triumphant  cow-boy  of  eight  years  in  the  very 
act  of  placing  his  foot  on  one's  neck,  it  is  difiicult 
to  look  dignified.  The  sudden  intrusion  of  an 
unsympathetic  personalty  will  banish  the  romantic 
illusion, 


242  ALIENS 

It  may  be  that  the  sombre  look  in  Mrs.  Carville's 
face  was  merely  expressive  of  a  doubt  of  my  sanity. 
For  a  grown  man  to  be  playing  with  two  Httle  boys 
at  three  o'clock  of  a  Tuesday  afternoon,  may  have 
seemed  bizarre  enough  in  her  view.  To  me, 
however,  endeavouring  to  disengage  myself  from 
my  conqueror  and  assume  an  attitude  in  keeping 
with  my  age  and  reputation,  her  features  were 
ominously  shadowed  by  displeasure. 

"  If  I  disturbed  you,"  I  said  courteously,  "  I 
am  sorry." 

She  put  her  hand  on  the  pahng  and  the  basket 
slid  down  her  arm.  She  seemed  to  be  pondering 
whether  I  had  disturbed  her  or  no,  eyeing  me 
reflectively.  Ben  came  up,  no  longer  a  scalped 
and  abandoned  cowboy,  but  a  dehghted  child. 
Perhaps  the  trust  and  frank  camaraderie  of  the 
little  fellow's  attitude  towards  me  affected  her,  for 
her  face  softened. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  repHed  slowly.  "  You  must 
not  let  them  trouble  you.     They  make  so  much 


noise." 


a 


No  no,"  I  protested.  "  I  enjoy  it.  I  am 
fond  of  children,  very  fond.  They  are  nice  httle 
boys." 

They  stood  on  either  side  of  me,  clutching  at 
my  coat,  subdued  by  the  conversation. 

"  You  have  not  any  children  ? "  she  asked, 
looking  at  them.     I  shook  my  head. 

"  I  am  a  bachelor,"  I  repHed,  "  I  am  sorry  to 
3ay;' 


ALIENS  243 

"  That  accounts  for  it,"  she  commented,  raising 
her  eyes  to  mine.     I  agreed. 

"  Possibly,"  I  said.  "  None  the  less  I  like  them. 
I  suppose,"  I  added,  "  they  ought  to  be  at  school." 

"  There  is  measles  everywhere  in  the  school," 
she  informed  me.     "  I  do  not  want  it  yet." 

"  Mr.  Carville,"  I  said,  seizing  an  opening, 
"  told  me  he  did  not  believe  in  school." 

"  That  is  right,"  she  answered.  "  He  don't  see 
the  use  of  them.  Nor  me,"  she  concluded  thought- 
fully. 

"  That  is  a  very  unusual  view,"  I  ventured. 

"  How  ?  "  she  asked  vaguely. 

"  Most  people,"  I  explained,  "  think  school  a 
very  good  thing." 

"  It  costs  nothing,"  she  mused  and  her  hand  fell 
away  from  the  paUng.  The  two  little  boys  ran  ojS, 
intent  on  a  fresh  game.  I  scanned  her  face  fur- 
tively, appreciative  of  the  regular  and  potent 
modelling,  the  pure  olive  tints,  the  pose  and  poise 
of  the  head.  Indubitably  her  face  was  dark; 
the  raven  hair  that  swept  across  her  brow  accen- 
tuated the  gloom  slumbering  in  her  eyes.  One 
unconsciously  surmised  that  somewhere  within 
her  Hfe  lay  a  region  of  unrest,  a  period  of  passion 
not  to  be  confused  with  the  quiet  courtship  described 
by  her  husband. 

''True,"  I  assented.  "By  the  way,  is  Mr. 
Carville  due  in  port  soon  ?  "  She  turned  her  head 
and  regarded  me  attentively. 

"  No,"  she  said,     "  Do  you  wish  to  see  him  ?  " 


244  ALIENS 

'*  Oh,  not  particularly/'  I  hastened  to  say.  "  He 
was  telHng  us  some  of  his  experiences  at  sea,  you 
know.     It  was  very  interesting/' 

''  I  do  not  hke  the  sea,''  she  said  steadily.  ''  It 
made  me  sick  .  .  /' 

"So  it  did  me.  But  I  enjoy  hearing  about 
foreign  lands  ;   Italy,  for  instance." 

"  This  is  all  right,"  Mrs.  Carville  rephed  in  the 
same  even  tone.    "  Here." 

"  And  he  will  be  back  soon  ?  "  I  said,  reverting 
to  Mr.  Carville. 

"Saturday  he  says;  but  it  may  not  be  till 
Monday.  If  bad  weather  Monday  .  .  .  Tuesday 
...  I  cannot  tell." 

"  I  see,"  I  said.  "  I  hope  we  shall  see  him 
then.  He  was  telHng  us  .  .  ."  I  paused.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  she  would  hardly  care  to  be 
apprised  of  what  her  husband  had  been  telHng 
us — "  of  his  early  Hfe,"  I  ended  lamely. 

"  Of  me  ?  "  She  asked  the  question  with  eyes 
gazing  out  toward  the  blue  ridge  of  the  Orange 
Mountains,  without  curiosity  or  anger.  I  felt 
sheepish. 

"  Something,"  I  faltered.  She  turned  once  more 
to  glance  in  my  direction.  I  was  surprised  at  the 
mildness  of  her  expression.  Almost  she  smiled. 
At  any  rate  her  lips  parted. 

"  He  is  a  good  man,"  she  said  softly,  and  added 
as  she  turned  away,  "  Good  afternoon," 


CHAPTER  XI 

Mr.  Carville  sees  Three  Green  Lights 

As  happens  on  occasion  the  weather  changed  with 
dramatic  suddenness  in  the  last  week  in  November. 
One  might  almost  imagine  that  oui  august  emperor 
of  the  seasons,  the  Indian  Summer,  protracting 
his  reign  against  all  the  wishes  of  the  gods,  stirring 
up  the  implacable  bitterness  and  hatred  of  winter, 
had  gone  down  suddenly  in  ruin  and  death.  I 
remember  well  the  evening  of  the  change.  I  had 
spent  a  tiring  day  in  New  York,  working  gradually 
up  Broadway  as  far  as  Twenty-third  Street.  Seen 
through  the  windows  of  the  Jersey  City  ferry- 
boat, the  prow-hke  configuration  of  lower  Man- 
hattan seemed  to  be  plunging  stubbornly  against 
the  gale  of  sleet  that  was  tearing  up  from  the 
Narrows.  The  hoarse  blast  of  the  ferry-whistle 
was  swept  out  of  hearing,  the  panes  resounded  with 
milhons  of  impacts  as  the  sleet,  hke  thin  iron  rods, 
drove  against  them.  An  ignoble  impulse  led  me 
to  join  the  scurrying  stampede  of  commuters 
towards  the  warmth  and  shelter  of  the  waiting- 
room.  There  is  something  personally  hostile  in 
a  bhzzard.     In  the  earthquake  at  San  Francisco 

245 


246  ALIENS 

there  was  a  giant  playfulness  in  the  power  that 
shook  the  brick  front  from  our  frame-house  and 
revealed  our  intimate  privacies  to  a  heedless  mob. 
There  was  a  feeling  there,  even  at  the  worst,  when 
the  slow  shuddering  rise  of  the  earth  changed  to 
a  swift  and  soul-shattering  subsidence,  a  feehng 
that  one  was  yet  in  the  hands  of  God.  But  in  a 
bhzzard  one  apprehends  an  anger  puny  and  personal. 
There  is  no  subUmity  in  defying  it ;  one  runs  to 
the  waiting-room.  And  once  there,  nodding  to 
Confield,  who  sat  in  a  corner  nursing  his  cosmo- 
poHtan  bag,  pressing  through  the  Httle  crowd  about 
the  news-stand,  I  found  myself  urging  my  body 
past  a  man  wearing  a  Derby  hat  and  smoking  a 
corn-cob  pipe.  I  had  a  momentary  sense  of 
gratification  that  even  a  seasoned  seafarer  Hke 
Mr.  Carville  should  feel  no  shame  in  taking  shelter 
from  the  inclement  w^eather. 

"  Good  evening,  sir,''  he  said  imperturbably. 
"  Homeward  bound  ?  " 

*'  Sure,''  I  said,  putting  down  a  cent  and  taking 
up  the  Manhattan  Mail,  an  evening  journal  of 
modest  headHnes.  "  I  suppose  you  are  coming 
out,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  we  turned  away,  "  I've  come 
up  from  the  ship.     We  only  got  in  this  morning." 

"  You  are  late,"  I  agreed.  "  Mrs.  Carville  said 
you  might  be  in  on  Saturday,  and  here  it  is  Wednes- 
day." 

He  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"  Oh  !    Did  she  tell  you  ?     Yes,  we  had  several 


ALIENS  247 

bad  days  after  passing  Fastnet.  The  Western 
ocean  is  bad  all  over  just  now/' 

"  I  suppose  you  were  sorry  to  leave  the  Medi- 
terranean/' 

"  It  was  Bremerhaven  this  time,"  he  rephed, 
striking  a  match.  ''  Near  Hamburg,  you  know. 
They  change  us  about  now  and  again/' 

"  What  is  your  cargo  ?  "  I  asked. 

**  I  thought  you  knew,"  he  said,  surprised. 
"  Vm  on  the  Iroquois,  an  oil-tank.  Standard  Oil, 
you  know.     I  quite  thought  you  knew." 

"  I  had  intended  to  ask  you,"  I  said,  "  but  it  is 
a  delicate  subject.  One  cannot  very  well  ferret 
for  details  of  a  stranger's  business." 

*'  That's  the  genteel  view,  I  know,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "There's  something  to  be  said  for  it, 
too." 

"  You  will  come  in  and  finish  your  story  ?  "  I 
ventured. 

"  Well,  I  did  think  of  looking  in  some  time 
•  .  . 

'^  After  dinner  to  night." 

"  Much  obhged.     It  passes  the  time." 

We  went  out  and  climbed  into  the  Paterson 
express.  We  are  rather  proud  of  this  train  in  a 
way,  for  it  is  the  only  one  of  the  day  which  confines 
itself  to  stations  when  contemplating  a  stop.  I 
narrated  to  Mr.  Carville  an  incident  of  the  pre- 
ceding winter  when  a  commuter  of  Hawthorne, 
on  our  line,  stepping  out  one  snowy  night,  found 
himself  clinging  to  the  trestles  of  the  bridge  over 


248  ALIENS 

the  Pasayack  River,  and  the  train  vanishing  into 
the  darkness.  Mr.  Carville  laughed  at  this,  and 
remarked  jocosely  that  he  was  "  safer  at  sea."  We 
discussed  for  some  time  the  comparative  merits  of 
English  and  American  railroads,  Mr.  Carville 
expressing  the  fairly  shrewd  opinion  that  "  con- 
ditions so  different  made  any  comparison  out  of 
the  question." 

''  After  all,"  he  remarked,  "  leaving  out  London, 
which  has  more  people  in  it  than  Canada  and 
Venezuela  put  together,  what  is  England  ?  From 
an  American  point  of  view,  I  mean.  Simplv  Mary- 
land !  " 

I  appreciated  this.  Often  during  my  sojourn 
in  America,  I  had  pored  over  maps  and  vainly 
endeavoured  to  form  some  conception  of  so  gigantic 
a  territory.  I  had  failed.  I  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  minds  nurtured  in  the  insular  atmos- 
phere were  forever  incapable  of  ^dsualising  a  con- 
tinent. In  my  fugitive  letters  to  friends  at  home 
I  had  been  reduced  to  the  astronomer's  facile 
illustrations.  "  Just  as,"  I  had  written  in  despair — 
"  just  as  a  railway  train,  travelling  at  a  mile  a 
minute,  takes  nearly  180  years  to  reach  the  sun, 
so  we,  travelling  in  a  tourist  car  at  rather  less  than 
a  mile  a  minute,  took  an  apparently  interminable 
period  to  reach  the  sun  of  California  !  "  It  was  a 
poor  jest,  but  excusable  in  one  whose  clothes,  ears, 
mouth,  eyes  and  nose  were  full  of  cinder -dust, 
excusable  in  a  disdainful  Britisher  so  far  from 
home.     To   Englishmen,    who   had  never  seen   a 


ALIENS  249 

grade -crossing,  a  desert,  or  a  mountain,  and  for 
whom  a  short  night -journey  on  smooth  rock- 
ballasted  lines  suffices  to  take  them  from  one  end 
of  their  country  to  the  other,  my  figure  was  vague 
enough,  no  doubt.  Some  day,  when  I  go  back, 
I  shall  try  to  explain. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  ''  exactly— Maryland." 

I  was  more  than  ever  reinforced  in  my  already - 
expressed  opinion  that  Mr.  Carville  was  a  man  of 
more  ability  than  ambition.  There  was  to  me 
something  bizarre  in  his  deliberate  abstention  from 
any  contact,  save  books,  with  the  larger  intellectual 
sphere  to  which  he  by  right  belonged.  His  naive 
confession  of  culture  showed  that  he  was  aware 
of  his  latent  power,  but  I  was  not  sure  whether 
he  had  ever  realized  the  stern  law  by  which  organs 
become  atrophied  by  disuse.  We  had  reached  our 
station  and  were  struggUng  up  Pine  Street  through 
rain  and  wind  before  I  ventured  to  hint  at  my 
concern. 

"  Ah  !  "   he  said.     "  I  daresay  you're  right  in  a 

way.     But "    The  wind  blew  his  voice  away, 

so  that  he  seemed  to  be  speaking  through  the 
telephone,  " I've  a  family  to  think  of." 

We  parted  at  the  door,  and  I  hurried  to  tell  the 
news  to  my  friends.  They  smiled  when  I  spoke 
of  Mr.  Carville. 

"  We've  had  news,  too,"  said  Bill,  helping  me  to 
spinach.     "  A  paper  from  Cecil." 

"  Copy  of  The  Morning,"  added  Mac.  It  is  a 
rule  of  the  house  that  there  be  no  papers  on  the 


250  ALIENS 

table,  so  I  possessed  my  soul  in  patience  until  after 
dinner.  My  cigar  going  well,  and  Mac  thundering 
the  "  Soldiers'  Chorus,"  from  Faust ^  on  the  piano, 
I  opened  the  paper  which  Bill  handed  to  me.  To 
be  honest,  I  was  a  Uttle  startled.  The  chief  item 
on  the  news  page  was  headed  : 

AEROPHONE  MESSAGE  FROM  CARVILLE ; 
OVER  HELIGOLAND  ;  ALARM  IN  GERMANY. 

Copyright  hy  The  London  "  Morning ^  • 

The  special  article  of  the  day  was  headed :  "  The 
Napoleon  of  the  Air ;  a  Character  Sketch,"  and 
the  leader,  signed  by  Lord  Cholme  himself,  was  a 
paean,  in  stilted  journalese,  in  praise  of  the  Morn- 
ing's enterprise  in  encouraging  invention. 

"  The  Empire,"  wrote  Lord  Cholme,  *'  can  no 
longer  afford  to  pass  by  one  of  her  most  brilhant 
sons.  In  the  light  of  his  magnificent  achievement, 
the  daring  of  a  Peary,  the  nerve  of  a  Shackleton, 
the  indomitable  persistence  of  a  Marconi,  dwindle 
and  fade.  We  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  since 
the  capture  of  Gibraltar,  the  Empire  has  secured 
no  such  chance  for  consohdating  her  paramountcy 
in  Europe.  The  present  is  no  time  for  hesitation 
or  delay.  Mr.  Carville  is  master  of  the  situation. 
By  his  message  from  the  air,  three  thousand  feet 
above  Heligoland,  in  full  view  of  German  territory, 
to  the  office  of  The  Morning  he  has  demonstrated 


ALIENS  251 

the  efficiency  of  his  machine.  If  that  is  not  suffi- 
cient, Mr.  Carville's  next  journey  will  convince 
Europe,  if  not  England.  If  the  pettifogging  Radical 
Government  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  our  brilliant  corre- 
spondent, if  they  ignore  his  claims  and  chaffer  in 
any  commercial  spirit  with  his  accredited  agents, 
their  days  are  numbered.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to 
say  that  the  days  of  the  Empire  are  also  num- 
bered .  .  ." 

Apart  from  our  own  private  interest  in  the  affair, 
the  news  did  not  thrill.  In  America  one's  withers 
are  unwrung  by  such  scares.  The  "  exclusive- 
ness  "  of  Lord  Cholme's  information,  indeed,  de- 
feated his  object.  Lord  Cholme,  I  knew,  was 
loved  neither  in  Fleet  Street  nor  in  Park  Place. 
His  ruthless  competition  with  the  news  agencies, 
his  capture  of  numerous  cable-routes,  had  gradually 
divided  England  into  two  classes :  those  who  read 
The  Morning  and  those  who  didn't.  Everyone 
remembers  the  exclusive  description  of  the  destruc- 
tion of  Constantinople  in  The  Morning,  No  one 
was  surprised  to  find  that  the  following  day  Con- 
stantinople was  still  aHve  and  well.  Clever  young 
Oxford  men  who  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  a 
post  on  The  Morning,  satirized  the  paper  in 
other  journals  who  never  paid  more  than  two 
guineas  a  column.  No  doubt,  having  been  a 
newspaper  man  myself,  I  discounted  the  effect  of 
the  scare  upon  the  pubHc.  I  could  imagine  the 
dehcate  raillery  of  the  other  papers,  if  indeed  they 


252  ALIENS 

deigned  to  notice  Lord  Cholme's  exclusive  informa- 
tion at  all. 

The  special  biography  was  as  accurate  as  such 
biographies  usually  are.  It  was  written  in  a  fair 
imitation  of  Mr.  Kipling's  racy  colloquial  style  and 
contained  numerous  references  to  the  Empire,  the 
White  Man's  Burden  and  our  "  far-flung  battle  Hne." 
I  suspected  that  Monsieur  D'Aubigne  had  suppUed 
the  basic  "  facts  "  which  had  been  edited  by  Lord 
Cholme  before  being  handed  on  to  "  Vol-Plane," 
as  the  biographer  called  himself. 

I  set  the  paper  down  and  resumed  my  cigar. 
The  drums  and  tramphngs  of  Lord  Cholme' s  organ 
had  revealed  nothing  fresh.  I  understand  now 
why  my  friends  had  merely  mentioned  the  fact  of 
its  arrival  and  made  no  comment.  After  all  our 
real  interest  lay  in  the  man,  not  in  his  aeroplane. 
We  had  never  seen  an  aeroplane  except  in  the 
cinema  films,  but  we  were  famihar  enough  with 
current  events  to  feel  no  surprise  that  a  man  had 
flown  over  the  North  Sea.  I  think  I  expressed  our 
mutual  sentiment  when  I  observed  that  Cecil's 
story  of  how  Frank  Carville  won  his  bet,  and  Mr. 
Carville's  own  account  of  the  voyage  from  the 
Argentine  to  Genoa,  told  us  far  more  about  the 
man  than  "  Vol-Plane's "  highly-paid  hack- 
work. 

We  had  been  but  a  few  minutes  in  the  studio 
before  Mr.  Carville  knocked  and  Mac  ran  down  to 
admit  him.  We  heard  the  rumble  of  voices  while 
our    visitor    discarded    his    coat ;     comments    on 


ALIENS  253 

"  the  change,"  and  then  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  I 
went  to  the  door  to  welcome  him. 

He  was  standing  on  the  landing,  appraising  with 
a  quick  eye  the  kakemonos  and  prints  that  covered 
the  distempered  walls.  We  are  rather  proud  of 
our  ''  Japs  "  as  Bill  calls  them.  I  even  tried  to 
learn  something  of  the  language  from  the  "  boy  " 
who  was  our  servant  in  San  Francisco.  He  was  not 
a  scholarly  boy,  and  he  told  Hes  in  Enghsh,  so  that 
it  is  possible  his  tuition  was  of  no  value.  I 
remember  Bill  was  ironic  because,  when  Nakamura 
was  dismissed  in  ignominy,  and  wrote  on  the  kitchen 
wall  for  the  benefit  of  his  successor,  I  was  unable 
to  decipher  the  message. 

"  Do  you  care  for  this  sort  of  thing  ?  "  said 
Mac.  "  That's  original,"  pointing  to  a  fine  Hiro- 
shige. 

*'I  used  to,"  replied  Carville,  feeling  for  his 
pipe.  "  I  was  a  good  while  in  that  trade — coal 
from  Moji  to  Singapore.  I  think  they're  best  at 
a  distance  though — the  people,  I  mean." 

Mac  protested  against  this  "  narrow  view." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Carville,  coming 
into  the  studio.  ''  I  read  Lafcadio  Hearn  when 
I  was  younger;  read  him  again  out  in  Japan. 
Humph  !  " 

Whether  his  characteristic  ejaculation  referred 
to  Hearn  or  the  studio  I  cannot  determine.  His 
interest  was  obvious,  but  it  was  the  interest,  not 
of  a  connoisseur,  but  of  a  man  looking  round 
another  man's  workshop.    Von  Roon  used  to  say 


254  ALIENS 

in  Chelsea,  ''  There  is  hope  for  him  who  looks  with 
attention  upon  his  neighbour's  tools."  Mr.  Car- 
ville  sank  slowly  into  a  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a 
recent  nude  study. 

"  We  haven't  any  Scotch,  but  if  you  care  for  Rye 
"  said  Mac,  reaching  for  a  tray  on  the  throne. 

Mr.  Carville's  eye  lost  its  vague  reflective  expres- 
sion as  it  fell  upon  the  tray. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  "I'd  rather  have  good  Rye 
than — than — well,  you  know  what  most  of  the 
Scotch  is  here.  No — no  water  thanks.  I  take  it 
as  I  find  it." 

It  was  a  new  facet  of  his  character,  this.  We 
watched  him  swallow  the  neat  spirit  at  a  gulp  and 
place  the  empty  glass  on  the  tray  without  emotion. 
Mac  and  I  sipped  gently  and  waited  for  Mr.  Car- 
ville  to  begin. 

"  I've  been  rather  worried  just  lately,  with  one 
thing  and  another,"  he  observed,  putting  away  his 
little  brass  tobacco  box.  "  Second  went  home  to 
get  married  last  trip,  and  the  Third,  promoted, 
you  understand,  needs  an  eye.  Very  willing  and 
all  that,  but  he's  been  in  these  big  hotel-ships, 
Western  ocean  all  his  hfe,  and  as  I  say,  he  needs 
an  eye.  I  was  telling  you  about  my  brother,  if  I 
remember." 

We  murmured  that  he  had,  and  watched  Mr. 
Carville's  obvious  enjoyment  of  his  pipe. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said,  "  the  Brignole  station  in 
Genoa.     Humph  !  " 

**  You  see,   my  brother  has  something  in  his 


ALIENS  255 

make-up  that  appeals  to  a  woman.  I  was  going  to 
say,  all  women.  There's  something  spectacular, 
you  might  say,  in  the  way  he  carries  on.  Fve 
never  been  able  to  decide  whether  it's  intentional 
or  just  fate.  Anyhow,  there  it  is  ;  and  if  you 
look  at  it  in  that  light,  it  isn't  so  very  wonderful 
after  all  that  a  girl  Hke  Kosa  was  then  should  have 
been  dazzled  and  carried  away.  When  she  jumped 
up  and  stood  staring  at  me,  I  hardly  knew  what  to 
do.  '  Rosa  !  '  I  said,  and  we  stood  facing  each 
other  for  a  while.  I  don't  know  ;  but  I  think  we 
got  to  know  each  other  better  just  then.  For  me, 
at  any  rate,  it  was  a  revelation.  They  say  a 
drowning  man  sees  all  his  past  life  while  the  water 
is  pressing  on  his  ear-drums.  Something  like  that 
happened  to  me  then  in  that  dismal,  badly-Hghted 
booking-hall.  It  wasn't  love,  in  the  sugary  senti- 
mental sense,  that  I  felt  for  Rosa  ;  but  a  bHnd, 
helpless  sort  of  an  emotion,  a  feehng  that  if  I  didn't 
get  her  I  was  lost — lost !  I  put  out  my  hands 
as  though  I  was  catching  hold  of  something  to 
hold  me  up  ...  I  felt  her  hands. 

"  I  can  hardly  remember  how  we  went  away 
from  there.  I  know  the  driver  shouted  to  me  as 
we  came  out  and  I  went  up  and  paid  him.  And 
then  we  were  in  the  Piazza  Corvetto,  sitting  on  a 
seat,  near  where  the  trolley-cars  stop.  How  long 
we  sat  there  I  don't  know  either.  I  knew  I'd  got 
her  again.  She  was  there,  alongside,  and  we  were 
talking,  Hke  two  children.  I  was  very  glad  .  .  , 
you  know," 


256  ALIENS 

He  paused,  and  we  went  on  smoking  and  sipping, 
and  Bill  bent  her  head  over  her  needlework.  I 
thought  with  a  sudden  and  revealing  vividness  of 
the  woman  who  had  said  to  me,  in  her  gentle 
Itahan  voice,  "  He  is  a  good  man/'  I  think  we 
were  very  glad  too,  though  we  did  not  say  so. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,*'  he  went  on  evenly,  "  whether 
my  brother  intended  to  take  her  away  with  him 
and  was  prevented  by  some  accident,  or  whether 
he  had  changed  his  mind.  I  think  he  intended  to. 
I  can  tell  you  what  I  did  myself.  Before  I  left 
Genoa  I  married  Rosa.  She  wanted  it.  She  did 
not  trust  herself.  There  are  men  hke  that.  Women 
cannot  trust  themselves  unless  some  man  will 
trust  them. 

"  When  we  sailed  out  of  Genoa  bound  for  Buenos 
Ayres,  I  was  a  married  man,  and  Rosa  had  a  flat 
in  Via  Palestro.  I  thought  I  knew  my  brother 
well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  I  needn't  fear  him 
any  more.  That's  the  strange  part  of  a  business 
Uke  that.  To  Rosa,  to  me,  it  was  Hfe  or  death  ; 
to  my  brother  it  was  the  amusement  of  a  few  hours, 
days,  perhaps  a  week.     It's  a  queer  world. 

"  I  think  it  was  about  two  years  after  that  before 
I  saw  my  brother  again.  When  the  war  in  South 
Africa  started  we  were  outward  bound  in  ballast  for 
Buenos  Ayres.  At  Monte  Video  we  received  orders 
to  go  to  Rosario  and  load  remounts  for  Cape  Town. 
It  was  a  big  business  ;  I  beheve  the  owners  built 
three  new  ships  out  of  the  profits  of  that  charter. 
When  we  got  up  the  river  those  bony  Argentine 


ALIENS  257 

cattle  were  waiting  for  us  and  run  aboard  in  a  few 
hours.  No  time  for  boilers  or  overhauling  engines 
or  anything.  Straight  out  again,  due  east,  with  a 
crowd  of  the  toughest  cattle-men  I  ever  saw  before 
or  since.  There  was  no  peace  or  quiet  on  the  ship 
at  all.  They  were  not  professional  cattle-deck 
tenders  at  all,  you  see.  They  only  took  the  job 
to  get  to  the  Cape,  where  the  trouble  was.  Most 
of  them  deserted  and  drifted  up  country.  Each 
trip  we  had  to  get  a  fresh  team.  I  can't  say  I 
enjoyed  my  hfe  very  much  during  that  charter. 
It  was  hard  luck,  though  nothing  out  of  the  way  for  a 
sailor-man,  to  go  off  the  Genoa  run  now  I  was 
married,  and  had  a  wife  there. 

"  I  saw  my  brother  soon  after  Cronje  was  cap- 
tured at  Paardeberg.  I  was  ashore  in  Cape  Town 
one  evening  taking  a  walk  with  the  Second,  just 
to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  ship  for  an  hour,  when  he 
pulls  my  sleeve  and  says  he : 

"  '  Say,  Chief,  there's  that  bummer  we  had  in  the 
mess-room  that  trip.  Him  as  won  the  lottery- 
prize  in  Genoa.'  He  pointed  across  the  street  to 
a  party  of  chaps  in  khaki  walking  along  and  slap- 
ping their  boots  with  their  canes.  I  looked  and 
saw  the  Second  was  right.  The  tallest  and  finest- 
looking  man  of  the  bunch  was  my  brother. 

"  He  did  not  see  me,  I'm  glad  to  say.  I  walked 
straight  on,  and  turned  into  a  saloon  for  a  drink. 
The  Second  talked  about  the  lottery  business  for  a 
spell,  for  that  yarn  had  gone  all  round  the  ships ; 
and  I  let  him  run  on.     I  had  a  panicky  feehng 


258  ALIENS 

inside  me.  It  dawned  on  me  suddenly  that  we 
were  destined  to  cross  each  other  all  om:  lives,  that 
go  where  I  would,  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  avoid  him. 
You  see  how  a  man's  imagination  will  run  away 
with  him.  I  ought  to  have  thanked  God  he  was 
in  South  Africa  and  likely  to  get  himself  shot 
fighting  for  his  country  instead  of  going  after 
women  in  Italy.  When  I  was  safe  aboard  the  ship 
again  I  began  to  see  how  I  had  been  frightened. 
For  it  was  fright  and  nothing  else  that  turned  me 
into  that  saloon  to  avoid  my  brother.  I  thought 
of  him  rushing  up  to  the  Brignole  station  at  the 
last  second  and  looking  round  for  Rosa,  and  finding 
her  gone.  He  would  know  I'd  had  something  to 
do  with  it.  He  would  swear  to  find  her  some  day, 
swear  in  one  of  his  hot  short  passions,  passions  like 
a  West  India  hurricane  that  whips  and  crashes  and 
smashes  everything  around  for  a  minute  or  two. 

''  I  used  to  think  a  lot  about  him  on  the  voyage 
back  to  Buenos  Ayres.  I  don't  know  what  he  was 
in,  in  the  war,  though  the  Second,  whose  brother 
was  a  driver  in  the  Artillery,  said  he  was  in  the 
Mounted  Infantry  uniform.  Everybody  was 
Mounted  Infantry  in  those  days.  To  me  it  seemed 
strange  that  Frank  should  go  out  to  the  war,  but 
I've  come  to  the  conclusion  he  really  felt  the  call. 
There  was  the  excitement  too.  The  old  bad  Irish 
blood  comes  out  in  the  love  of  a  row.  I  prefer 
quiet  myself. 

"  In  Buenos  Ayres  I  had  a  letter  from  Aunt 
Rebecca,     Rosa  had  a  baby,  but  it  was  dead  as 


ALIENS  259 

soon  as  born.  The  old  woman  said  Fd  better  come 
home.  I  remember  walking  up  and  down  the 
bridge -deck  that  night,  thinking  things  out  under 
the  stars.  I  knew  Rosa  would  like  to  go  to  Eng- 
land. They  hear  so  much  about  Inghilterra  in 
Italy.  For  them  it  is  a  land  where  lords  and 
ladies  walk  about  the  streets  and  give  pennies  to 
poor  people  all  day  long.  And  though  Rosa  was 
not  all  ItaHan,  she  shared  the  Italian  idea  that 
England  is  a  superior  country.  Then  again,  I  was 
not  only  in  need  of  a  holiday,  but  I  was  able  to 
afford  one  if  I  was  careful  and  kept  down  expenses. 
To  take  a  holiday  in  England,  with  Rosa  !  To  see 
it  as  though  it  was  all  fresh  !  The  fancy  took 
strong  hold  of  me.  I  saw  myself  going  through  St. 
Paul's,  the  Tower,  Monument  and  Westminster 
Abbey,  as  an  ahen.  I  saw  the  hungry  landlady  in 
the  Bloomsbury  boarding-house  trying  to  rook 
me.  '  Bloomsburys '  have  a  very  bad  name  in 
Italy  among  educated  people.  I  read  an  article  in 
the  Stampa — very  humorous  it  was.     Humph  ! 

"  I  talked  it  over  with  the  Skipper  next  day. 
It  is  a  strange  thing  to  me  how  men  value  one 
sentiment  and  underrate  another.  If  I'd  gone  to 
the  Old  Man  and  said,  '  I  want  to  go  home.  Captain, 
and  see  my  wife,'  he  would  have  asked  me  if  I  was 
crazy.  But  as  soon  as  I  said — ^showing  him  the 
black -edged  letter — ^that  the  kid  was  dead,  he 
pulled  a  long  face  and  said  he'd  see  the  agents  at 
once.  I  wrote  to  my  old  uncle  in  London  explaining 
matters.     The  Second  got  his  step  and  they  got  a 


260  ALIENS 

new  Fourth  of!  a  meat -boat  of  the  company's  that 
was  loading  at  the  time.  When  I  was  paid  off  I 
took  my  dunnage  and  bought  me  a  second-class 
ticket  for  Genoa  on  a  Rubattino  boat. 

"  To  a  certain  extent  I  had  no  reason  to  be  dis- 
satisfied with  my  success  in  life.  Many  a  man  has 
done  worse  at  thirty -three.  I  was  married  ;  I  had 
money  in  the  bank ;  I  could  eat  and  drink  and 
sleep  well ;  I  enjoyed  reading  and  smoking.  Be- 
yond that,  I  have  grown  to  think  a  man  need  not 
go.  For  you  gentlemen,  of  course,  it's  different. 
You  are  out  for  fame.  You  work  at  high  and  low 
pressure,  whereas  I  work  in  a  vacuum,  so  to  speak. 
I  thought  a  good  deal  about  Hfe  on  that  voyage 
to  Genoa  as  a  passenger.  It  was  a  new  experience 
to  me,  I  can  tell  you.  For  the  first  day  or  two  I 
was  lost.  There  seemed  nothing  to  do.  I'd  walk 
up  and  down  the  promenade  deck  listening  to  the 
beat  of  the  twin -engines,  wondering  if  the  Second 
was  a  good  man  .  .  .  habit,  you  see  ?  And  then 
I  found  a  little  library  abaft  the  smoking-room, 
full -up  with  leather -bound  books  that  nobody 
wanted  to  read.  They  were  Italian,  of  course,  for 
it  was  an  Italian  ship,  and  it  struck  me  that  I'd 
have  some  fun  rubbing  up  my  knowledge  of  the 
language.  For  let  me  tell  you  that  colloquial 
Genoese  doesn't  take  you  very  far  into  Dante  or 
Boccaccio  !  I  think  that  was  one  reason  why  Rosa 
had  disUked  the  idea  of  living  in  Italy.  Although 
I  didn't  notice  it  much,  being  a  foreigner,  her  speech 
was  not  refined.     How  could  it  be,  down  on  the  Via 


ALIENS  261 

Milano  with  Rebecca  for  a  teacher  ?  Well,  I  started 
in  and  every  day  I  worked  my  way  through  a 
chapter  or  two.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  know 
modern  Italian  writing  so  well — for  a  foreigner — 
that  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  all  these  great 
men  English  and  Americans  boom  so — Shaw  and 
Wells,  you  know,  and  Maeterlinck.  They're 
smarties,  but  the  high  pressure  men  are  Itahans. 
I  can't  help  thinking,  after  reading  the  modern 
men,  that  they  are  like  the  transformers  in  an 
electric  power-plant.  The  Italians  are  the  gener- 
ators of  ideas,  and  these  other  chaps  are  trans- 
formers. They  reduce  the  voltage,  lose  a  lot  in 
leakage,  but  are  useful  because  they  make  the 
current  available  to  the  small  man.  It's  a  rather 
technical  illustration,  but  that's  what  I  mean. 

*'  Two  men,  or  two  books  if  you  like,  took  a  great 
hold  of  me  on  that  voyage — Mazzini's  Duties  of 
Man  and  Cellini's  Life,  I  suppose  they  are 
about  as  far  apart  as  any  two  books — or  men — 
could  get.  You  may  laugh  at  the  notion,  but  I 
found  myself  in  sympathy  with  both  !  Mazzini 
appealed  to  my  mind,  CelHni  to  my  imagination. 
If  Ruskin  had  stuck  to  his  last  as  Mazzini  did,  he 
might  have  made  a  revolution  in  England.  I'm 
not  a  Socialist,  never  was,  any  more  than  Mazzini, 
and  there  was  something  fine  to  me  about  the  way 
he  told  these  boiling,  ignorant,  weak-minded  mobs 
of  Italian  workmen  that  they  had  duties  as  well  as 
rights.  There's  too  much  talk  of  rights  nowadays. 
Anybody  would  think  that  because  a  man  works 


262  ALIENS 

with  his  hands  and  takes  wages,  he's  fi'ee  to  do  as 
he  pleases.  I  remember  the  Old  Man  once  when 
I  had  trouble  with  a  fireman.  '  All  I  want  is 
justice  !  '  says  the  man,  putting  his  dirty  hand  on 
the  chart -room  door.  '  Justice  !  '  roars  the  Old 
Man,  ^  By  God,  you  dirty  bone -headed  Liverpool 
Irishman,  if  you  had  justice  you'd  be  in  irons, 
that's  where  you'd  be.'     Humph  ! 

"  I  think  I  took  to  Cellini  because  in  a  way  he 
reminded  me  of  my  brother.  He  got  away  with  it 
every  time  !  The  idea  of  doing  anything,  or  not  doing 
anything,  because  it  was  against  the  law  or  custom, 
never  entered  his  head  !  Very  few  people  who  read 
Celhni  realize  that  there  are  men  like  him  now. 
Every  bit.  They  don't  write  about  themselves, 
that's  all.  There  will  always  be  a  certain  number 
of  men  of  his  kidney,  a  sort  of  seasoning  for  the  rest 
of  us.  They  fear  nothing  and  they  reverence  noth- 
ing ..  .  Strong  men  ! 

"  All  day  and  every  day  I'd  sit  away  astern 
reading  these  books,  and  gradually  an  idea  took 
shape  in  my  mind.  It  was  this.  It  was  my  duty 
to  have  a  family,  since  my  brother  had  turned  out 
so.  More  than  that,  it  was  my  duty  to  give  them  a 
chance,  when  they  came.  I  could  not  see  how  I 
was  to  do  that  in  England.  I  can't  see  it  now. 
England  to  me  is  on  the  crumble.  Emigration  has 
dug  away  the  outside  of  the  walls  and  revolution 
is  digging  away  inside.  For  men  like  Belvoir, 
men  who  have  been  to  pubhc-schools  and  Oxford, 
and  have  a  private  income,  it  will  be  comfortable 


enough  for  a  long  time  to  come.     But  it  is  on  .. 
crumble.     Wlien  I  thought  of  my  children  I  never 
pictured  them  grown  up  in  that  genteel  snobbish 
life  that  I'd  been  brought  up  in.     Xo  ! 

''  And  I  knew  that  Rosa  still  had  her  dislike  of 
Italy.  \"\liat  should  we  do  ?  Suddenly  it  occurred 
to  me  that  since  my  father  had  come  from  America. 
I  could  go  back  there.  I  beheve  in  this  country,  and 
it's  going  on  ten  years  since  I  first  came.  There's 
something  electric  in  the  air  over  here,  a  feehng 
that  things  grow.  My  boys  wiH  have  a  chance 
here  ...  I  think. 

''  That  was  one  part  of  the  idea.  The  other  was 
to  name  my  boys  after  those  two  men.  It  may  be 
only  fancy  but  I  think  names  have  an  influence, 
you  know.  A  father's  fancy — let  it  go  at  that ! 
I'd  like  somehow  to  have  one  of  my  boys  an  artist, 
and  watch  him  grow.  I  used  to  dream  about  the 
future  on  that  lazy  voyage  to  Genoa.  Every  man 
does  at  times.     Pipe- dreams,  you  know. 

"  Rosa  was  out  and  about  when  I  reached  the 
Via  Palestro.  She  fell  in  at  once  with  my  plan  to 
take  a  trip  to  England.  We  stopped  at  Paris  for  a 
day  or  two  to  look  roimd  and  buy  things,  and  then 
on  to  London.  I  found  a  quiet  httle  private 
boarding  estabhshment  in  Tavistock  Square,  where 
we  lived  cheap  and  comfortable.  A  penny  bus  took 
us  almost  any^'here.  I'd  been  fancying  myself 
with  Rosa  going  about  as  a  stranger,  and  if  you'll 
believe  me  it  was  almost  a  fact !  London  had 
changed  very  much  since  I'd  been  in  Victoria  Street, 


26^4  ALIENS 

^^-  ^a'll  notice  that  if  you  go  back  now.  Same  as 
New  York ;  one  can  hardly  recognize  some  parts 
of  it  now.  I  did  enjoy  that  time.  Eosa  was  so 
pleased  with  everything  she  saw.  It  was  May,  you 
see ;  London  in  May.  We  used  to  go  down  to 
Chelsea  and  watch  the  boats  on  the  river,  and  see 
the  people  in  the  grand  houses  on  the  embankment, 
going  out  in  their  automobiles. 

"  Gradually  the  idea  that  my  brother  would  come 
across  me  again  got  fainter  and  I  didn't  encourage 
it.  I  heard  nothing  of  him.  My  uncle,  who  had 
retired,  down  at  Surbiton,  told  me  he  had  not  seen 
him  for  years.  We  agreed  that  it  was  best  to  leave 
him  to  his  own  devices.  I  didn't  take  Rosa  down. 
Somehow  I  didn't  see  her  catching  on  to  my  uncle 
and  cousins.  They  were  a  little  too  genteel  for 
her. 

"  For  the  same  reason  I  didn't  take  her  to 
Chf!ord's  Inn  when  I  went  to  see  Miss  Flagg,  the 
woman  Gladys  had  lived  with.  Miss  Flagg  was 
there,  much  the  same  as  before,  with  her  flat  and 
pecuHar  furniture  and  her  untidy  dress.  She  was 
so  glad  to  see  me  and  hoped  I'd  got  another  book 
to  print.  Humph  !  She  told  me  she  didn't  see 
Gladys  very  often  nowadays ;  had  a  flat  of  her 
own  in  Fulham.  My  brother  had  crooked  his 
finger,  and  away  she  ran.  Miss  Flagg  told  me  all 
about  it,  how  Gladys  had  taken  to  paint — on  her 
face  I  mean — and  gone  to  the  devil  generally.  I'll 
say  this  for  Miss  Flagg,  she  never  used  anything  to 
add  to  her  beauty,  much  as  she  needed  it.     We 


ALIENS  265 

were  going  on  very  nicely  when  I  happened  to  men- 
tion I  was  married,  and  all  the  Hght  went  out  of 
Miss  Flagg's  face.  She  was  finished  with  me.  You 
see,  even  when  they're  after  votes,  they're  just 
the  same.  1  left  her  and  took  Rosa  to  the  Zoo  in 
the  afternoon.     I  enjoyed  that,  and  so  did  she. 

"  After  about  three  months  of  this  sort  of  thing, 
I  began  to  hanker  for  the  sea  again.  You  may 
wonder  at  that,  but  it's  a  fact.  It  grows  on  men, 
me  for  one.  I  felt  lost  without  the  beat  of  the 
engine,  you  know.  So  I  apphed  for  several  jobs, 
and  finally  the  builders  of  the  ship  I'm  on  now,  the 
Iroquois,  wanted  a  chief  to  take  her  out  to  New 
York.  I  got  the  job  and  we  went  to  Sunderland 
to  join  her.  Since  then  I've  been  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  the  Western  Ocean.  And  speaking  in  a 
general  way,  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Mr.  Carville,  pinching  his  shaven  chin  with  a 
thumb  and  fore-finger,  looked  down  meditatively 
at  his  boots.  In  some  subtle  way  his  manner 
behed  his  words.  I  felt  a  Hvely  conviction  that 
there  was  in  a  particular  way  something  more  to  it. 
It  seemed  quite  incredible  that  he  had  no  more  to 
tell  us  of  his  brother. 

"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  you  have  heard  of  your 
brother  since  ?  "' 

He  gave  me  a  quick  look. 

"  That's  right,"'  he  said.  *'  I  have.  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  about  it.  I  saw  him,  fifteen  days  ago, 
in  the  North  Sea.'' 

"  Great  Scott,  did  you  really  ?  "  exclaimed  Mac, 


266  ALIENS 

and  he  picked  up  the  copy  of  The  Mornhig,  "  Look 
here  !  " 

Mr.  Carville  took  the  paper  and  read  the  news 
^vithout  exhibiting  any  emotion.  I  saw  his  eye-lid 
flicker  as  he  glanced  down  the  special  article  by 
"  Vol-Plane.''  Lord  Cholme's  concern  for  the 
Empire  seemed  to  leave  him  cold. 

"  Humph  !  ''  he  remarked  and  handing  the  paper 
to  Mac,  remained  lost  in  thought  for  a  .moment. 

''  Ah !  "  he  said  at  length.  "  That  certainly 
accounts  for  him.  But  it  doesn't  say  anything 
about  the  three  green  Kghts." 

"  What  green  lights  VI  asked,  Httle  thinking 
that  I  should  see  these  same  lights  myself  in  the 
near  future. 

"  ril  tell  you/'  said  he,  and  looked  round  for  a 
place  to  knock  out  his  pipe.  I  passed  him  the  ash- 
bowl  that  Mac  brought  back  from  Mexico  when  he 
went  down  there  to  do  a  bird's-eye  view  for  a 
mining  company.  Mr.  Carville  held  it  up  to 
examine  the  crude  red  and  blue  daub  on  the  pale 
glaze. 

'*  I  suppose,"  he  began, ''  that  of  all  the  meetings 
Fve  had  with  my  brother,  this  last  one  was  the 
most  unusual.  It  was  unusual  enough,  that  time 
in  the  Parque  Colon,  when  he  grabbed  my  neck  in 
the  dark  ;  but  this  last  meeting  beats  that,  I  think. 
It's  funny  how  a  quiet,  respectable  man  like  me 
should  have  such  experiences,  isn't  it  ? 

"  I  ought  to  explain  that  the  Iroquois,  like  all  oil 
tank  steamers,  has  her  engines  aft.     The  captain 


ALIENS  267 

and  mates  live  amidships  under  the  bridge,  while 
we  engineers  all  live  in  the  poop,  under  the  quarter- 
deck, as  they  call  it  in  the  Navy.  There  is  a  long 
gangway  between  the  two  houses,  but  as  a  general 
thing  we  hve  apart.  We  have  our  own  pantry  and 
steward  and  we  can  go  straight  out  of  our  berths 
into  the  engine-room  without  coming  on  deck  at 
all. 

*'  It  was  the  second  night  after  we  left  Bremer- 
haven  that  this  happened  and  about  ten  minutes 
after  eight  bells,  midnight.  I  keep  the  eight  to 
twelve  watch  with  the  Fourth,  you  see,  and  it  often 
happens  that  I  don't  feel  like  turning  in  right  away. 
It  was  a  clear  yet  dark  night  without  a  ripple  on 
the  sea.  It  had  been  one  of  those  calm  days  that 
we  have  in  Enghsh  waters  in  winter  time,  a  pale 
sun  shining  through  a  Kght  haze,  cold  yet  pleasant. 
Fd  seen  the  Third  tumble  down  the  ladder  and 
heard  the  Fourth  put  his  door  on  the  hook.  Down 
below  there  was  the  quick  thump  of  the  engines, 
the  rattle  of  the  ashes  being  shovelled  into  the 
ejector,  and  the  click  of  oil-cup  Hds  as  the  Third 
went  round  the  bearings.  Everything  seemed  in 
fair  trim  for  a  quiet  night.  I  walked  up  and  down 
the  deck  for  a  spell,  finishing  my  pipe,  and  then  I 
was  standing  by  the  stern  hght,  an  electric  fixed  on 
the  after  side  of  the  scuttle.  A  good  way  to  the 
westward  was  the  Kentish  Knock  Lightship.  I 
was  leaning  against  the  bulkhead,  smoking  and 
thinking  of  things  in  general,  you  may  say,  and 
wondering  what  the  Second  would  do  next,  when 


268  ALIENS 

I  saw  three  green  lights,  very  low  on  oiu'  starboard 
quarter.  1  don't  think  I  was  much  struck  by  them 
at  first.  Might  have  been  a  trawler.  The  Second 
Mate  told  me  afterwards  that  after  the  Old  Man 
had  gone  down  he  saw  a  green  light  and  thought  it 
was  the  Harwich  and  Hook-of -Holland  mail-boat. 
He  was  half  asleep  or  he'd  have  wondered  where 
her  mast-lights  were.  I  took  very  httle  notice,  I 
say,  until  it  struck  me  that,  so  far  from  being  a 
trawler,  those  lights  were  moving  a  good  deal 
faster  than  a  mail-boat.  Sometimes  I  could  see 
only  one  light.  I  began  to  wonder  what  it  was 
and  I  stepped  down  to  my  room  to  get  my  binocu- 
lars. I  remember  the  mess-room  was  dark,  and 
across  the  table  and  floor  was  a  narrow  bar  of  light 
from  the  Fourth's  door.  As  I  came  up  the  stairs 
I  heard  a  pecuHar  droning  sound,  as  though  the 
Third  had  let  the  dynamo  run  away.  I  turned 
round  intending  to  go  down  below,  when  I  saw  the 
green  lights  coming  up  fast  .  .  .  fast. 

"  As  my  foot  touched  the  deck  the  wings  were 
overhead  and  I  saw  the  long  body  and  flat  tail. 
To  me,  for  I'd  never  seen  an  aeroplane  close  before, 
it  was  a  wonderful  sight.  I  put  the  glasses  up  and 
watched  it  shde  away  in  the  dark,  dropping  until 
it  seemed  to  skim  the  water.  '  So  that's  an  aero- 
plane !  '  I  said  to  myself.  And  I  saw  it  wheel  round 
and  the  green  lights  came  into  view  again,  rising, 
I  remember.  I  was  a  bit  excited  and  leaned  over 
the  stern  rail.  I  had  never  reahsed  before  how  a 
man  might  feel  while  flying.     I'd  always  looked  at 


ALIENS  269 

'  the  pictures  as  rather  Jules  Verney,  you  might  say  ; 
improbable  and  far-fetched.  But  here  it  was, 
coming  up  on  us  again,  much  more  wonderful  than 
any  picture  !  We  were  doing  about  twelve  knots, 
and  I  suppose  that  machine  was  coming  up  at 
thirty.  Just  above  the  big  triangle  of  three  green 
lights  was  a  blue  spark  snapping,  and  in  the  shadow 
between  the  wings  the  shape  of  a  man.  I  stood 
there  watching,  watching,  feeling  nervous  because 
of  that  peculiar  drone  that  the  propeller  made, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  it  stopped  and  the  whole  thing 
swooped  down  to  within  twenty  feet  of  the  awning - 
spars.  I  stepped  back  a  Httle  and  looked  straight 
up.  In  the  wink  of  an  eye  he  was  gone,  but  I  saw 
him,  and  he  me.  As  he  swerved  away  to  clear  the 
funnels,  I  heard  him  give  a  great  shout  of  laughter 
that  rose  to  a  small  scream  :  '  ^Pon — soul — ifs — 
Char — lie  ! '  he  sang  out,  and  dropped  away  astern. 
I  heard  his  engine  begin  again,  a  note  like  an  insect ; 
and  he  fled  away  towards  Gunfleet.  And  that  was 
all! 

"  I  stood  there  dazed  for  a  moment.  In  spite  of 
the  suddenness  of  it,  I  don't  think  I  had  any  doubt 
it  was  my  brother.  I  saw  his  big  hook  nose  sticking 
out  of  the  fur  cap  between  the  horrible  goggles,  his 
body  craning  forward  under  the  wings.  And  the 
voice,  the  wailing,  sneering,  screaming  laugh, 
'  Charlie !  ' — that  was  him  right  enough.  My 
brother  ! 

'^  I  stepped  along  the  gangway  to  the  bridge, 
just  as  the  Second  Mate  took  the  telescope  from  his 


270  ALIENS 

eye  and  laid  it  in  the  rack.  He  saw  me  and  leaned 
over  the  rail  beckoning. 

"  '  Say,  Mister  Chief,  what  the  blazes  was  that  ?  ' 
he  whispered. 

" '  Didn't  you  see  it  ?  '  I  asked.  I  knew  he  had 
been  dozing  on  the  lee  side  of  the  chart -room. 

"  '  See  it !  I  heard  something  ! '  he  says.  '  Was 
it  you  calhng  CharHe  ?  '  His  name's  CharUe,  you 
see  ;   Charhe  Phillips. 

*' '  No,'  I  said.  '  I  didn't  see  anything.  You 
must  have  been  asleep,  Mr.  Phillips.' 

"  He  looked  at  me,  rather  raw  about  the  gills, 
took  a  look  at  the  Gunfleet  Light  and  bent  down 
again  to  me. 

'^ '  Did  you  see  anything  ?  '  He  waved  his  hand 
towards  the  Essex  coast.  ^  Yes,'  I  said.  '  Green 
lights.' 

"  *  Oh,  that  was  the  Harwich  boat,'  he  says. 
*  I  know  that.  She's  gone.  Must  have  been  going 
twenty -two  knots.' 

"  '  It  was  an  aeroplane,'  I  said,  whispering, 
'  flew  past.' 

^'^  EhV  says  he.  I  said  it  again.  He  straightens  up 
and  takes  a  turn  up  and  down  the  bridge.    Humph  ! 

"  I  was  just  testing  him,  you  see  ;  or  rather, 
testing  my  owm  feelings  by  his. 

"  '  You'd  better  watch  out,'  I  said.  '  It  may 
come  back.' 

"  '  I  am  watching  out  !  '  says  he,  rather  savage. 
'  ril  take  care  of  all  the  aeroplanes  about ;  thank 
you,  Mister  Chief,' 


ALIENS  271 

"  I  went  back  then  and  took  another  look  round 
with  my  glasses,  but  I  saw  nothing  but  a  couple  of 
coasting  steamers  in  shore.  I  stepped  down  into 
the  mess-room  and  looked  through  the  slit  of  the 
Fourth's  door.  Funny  coincidence  !  He  was  on 
his  settee  in  his  pyjamas,  asleep,  and  on  his  stomach 
was  a  magazine  he'd  been  reading,  a  magazine  with 
a  coloured  cover  showing  an  aeroplane  dropping  and 
bursting  shell  on  a  man -o -war. 

"  I  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  listening  to  the 
bells,  watching  Rosa's  picture  flickering  on  the 
bulkhead  as  the  screw  below  me  shook  the  ship. 
So  we'd  met  again !  I  couldn't  blame  the  Second 
Mate — I've  kept  the  grave -yard  watch  myself ; 
and  there  is  no  love  lost  between  the  bridge  and 
engine-room  on  the  Iroquois,  Except,  of  course, 
the  Mate  and  the  Second,  who  are  good  chums, 
because  on  an  oil -boat  the  Second  can  do  the  Mate 
a  lot  of  harm.  I  couldn't  blame  Mister  Charlie 
Phillips.  But  what  would  he  have  said  if  I'd  told 
him  my  brother  was  on  that  machine  ?  What  if 
I'd  said  I'd  seen  wireless  sparks  spitting  above  it  ? 
Humph  !  K 

"  And  then  do  you  know  what  happened  ?  I 
suppose  I  must  have  dozed  a  little,  for  the  next 
thing  I  remember  was  the  whoop  of  our  siren  and 
the  engines  going  dead  slow.  As  I  tumbled  out  to 
go  down  it  was  three  o'clock.  The  Third  was 
standing  by  the  reversing  gear  and  I  saw  by  the 
vacuum  gauge  that  the  temperature  of  the  sea  was 
down   to   forty -eight   degrees.     '  Fog,   sir  ?  '    says 


272  ALIENS 

the  Third.  '  Aye,'  I  said.  '  Shut  your  injection 
a  Httle.  Wo're  off  the  Goodwins,  I  suppose.' 
Everything  was  all  right,  so  I  climbed  up  to  look. 
The  Old  Man  was  out  on  deck  and  they  were  heaving 
the  lead.  Every  minute  the  siren  gives  a  mournful 
whoop  and  the  slow  thump  of  the  propeller  made 
me  miserable.  I  leaned  over  the  side,  thinking  of 
my  brother  and  his  aeroplane.  For  the  hfe  of  me 
I  couldn't  be  sure  it  wasn't  all  a  dream.  The  thin 
whine  of  the  siren  sounded  very  like  his  cry  of 
'  Charlie  ! '  I  heard  the  Old  Man  bark  something, 
heard  the  tinkling  of  the  telegraph  and  the  siren 
bellowed  again.  We  were  going  full  speed  astern  ! 
Just  as  I  turned  away  from  the  bulwarks  I  saw  a 
green  light,  the  side  light  of  a  coaster,  rush  past. 
I  could  hear  some  one  shouting  through  a  mega- 
phone on  the  bridge.  She  must  have  been  awful 
close — went  past  our  stern  with  an  inch  to  spare  as 
we  swung.  And  then  all  was  quiet  again  as  the 
engines  stopped  and  went  ahead  dead  slow.  I 
went  down  and  got  my  overcoat  and  a  pipe.  The 
Second  was  putting  on  his  clothes.  '  Ah,  you  may 
as  well,'  I  said.  '  It's  thick  all  right.'  I  like  a 
man  that  don't  have  to  be  called. 

"  All  night  we  crawled  along.  You  see,  the 
Straits  of  Dover  are  very  like  Piccadilly  Circus. 
You  never  know  who  you  may  run  against  in  a  fog, 
it's  so  crowded  and  the  company  is  so  mixed. 
About  breakfast  time  the  Old  Man  judged  by 
soundings  he  was  abeam  of  Dungeness  and  we  went 
half-speed.     The  fog  Hfted  about  Beachy  Head, 


ALIENS  273 

"  So  you  see,  the  fact  and  the  fiction  was  so 
mixed  up  in  my  mind  that  by  the  time  we  got  into 
the  Western  Ocean  I  didn't  feel  sure  which  was 
which.  The  Second  Mate  never  said  a  word  more 
about  green  Hghts,  for  if  he  allowed  there  was  an 
aeroplane  about  on  the  middle  watch  the  Skipper 
would  naturally  ask  him  why  he  didn't  see  it. 
And  then  what  mixed  things  in  my  mind  still  more 
was  my  picking  up  the  Fourth's  magazine  in  the 
mess-room  one  day  and  reading  that  yarn.  I  was 
going  to  tell  you  about  this ;  but  merely  to  show 
you  how  my  brother  impressed  me  that  I  dreamt 
about  him  at  sea.  But  now — it  seems  I  didn't 
dream  it  after  all. 

"  I'm  not  surprised,"  went  on  Mr.  Carville,  after 
a  slight  pause  to  stir  up  the  ash  in  his  pipe  with  a 
pen-knife,  "not  surprised.  My  brother  had  it  in 
him  always.  Quite  apart  from  any  personal  feel- 
ing I  might  have  for  liim  or  against,  I  was  always  pre- 
pared, so  to  say,  to  see  him  doing  something  big. 
His  trouble  with  his  season-ticket  and  his  bigger 
trouble  that  put  him  in  gaol  were  very  much  on  a 
par.  He  always  had  an  unconventional  way  of 
getting  what  he  wanted.  It  was  no  use  talking  to 
him  ;  he  simply  doesn't  see  what  you  mean.  I — 
I  wonder  what  he's  going  to  do  next." 

'  He  might  pay  a  visit  over  here,"  I  said  tenta- 
ively.     Mr.  Carville  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"  I  shouldn't  hke  that  at  all,"  he  said,  shaking 
is  head.      "  You  see  ...    I  might  be  away  .  .  . 
J  shouldn't  like  it  at  all." 

I 


274  ALIENS 

He  was  obviously  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that  the 
suggestion  had  been  unwise.  Obviously  it  would  not 
do  to  tell  him  that  his  brother  knew  where  he  was. 

"  So  far,"  he  remarked  presently,  "  my  little 
boys  don't  know  anything  about  their  uncle.  I've 
no  wish  that  they  should.  I  want  them  to  grow 
up  in  this  country  without  any  connection  with 
Europe  at  all.  Any  debt  they  owe  to  Europe  can 
be  paid  later.  My  brother  couldn't  help  them  at 
all.     And  Rosa ." 

Mr.  Carville  stood  up  to  go.  The  cover  for 
Payne's  Monthly  caught  his  eye  and  he  nodded 
approvingly. 

"  That's  clever,"  he  said.  "  I  wish  sometimes 
I'd  gone  in  for  doing  things,  Uke  you.  As  you  said, 
a  man's  mind  rusts,  gets  seized,  if  it  isn't  v/orking. 
I  did  think  of  doing  something  with  a  few  papers 
I've  got  in  my  berth  on  the  Iroquois,  but — I  don't 
know." 

"  Why  not  let  me  have  a  look  at  them,"  I  said. 
"  I  might  act  as  a  sort  of  an  agent  for  you,  unpaid 
of  course ." 

''  Much  obHged,"  said  Mr.  Carville  placidly, 
"  but  I  don't  know  as  you  need  bother.  I  threw 
a  book  over  the  side  once." 

"  A  manuscript !  "  I  said,  aghast.  He  nodded, 
looking  at  his  boots.  "  I  thought  a  lot  of  it  once  ; 
called  it  Dreams  on  a  Sea-  Weed  Bed,  and  got  a  funny 
faced  Httle  girl  in  Nagasaki  to  type  it  for  me.  But 
one  voyage,  when  I'd  been  reading  a  book  called 
New  Gmh  Street,  I  got  sick  of  the  whole  thing  and 


en 


ALIENS  275 

dumped  it  in  the  Java  Sea,   half  way  between 
Sourabaja  and  Singapore." 

"  I  can't  approve  of  that,  Mr.  Carville,"  I  said, 
standing  up  and  confronting  him.  "  A  foolish 
thing  to  do  !  " 

'''  How's  that  ?  It  might  just  as  well  be  twenty 
fathoms  deep  in  the  Java  Sea  as  twenty  volumes 
deep  in  the  British  Museum  ?     Eh  !   It  was  mine." 

"  Oh  yes,  yes  ;  but  it's  hardly  fair  to  deprive  the 
world  of  it." 

"  Humph  !  I  guess  the  world  won't  sweat,  sir. 
It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  a  lot  of  modern  stuf? 
was  dumped.  Some  of  the  authors  too,  by  your 
leave  1  " 

"  I  quite  agree,"  I  said.     We  had  been  to  see 
Brieux'  Damaged   Goods    in    New    York    a    week 
or  so  before,  and  we  were  in  the  mood  to  sym- 
pathise with  Mr.  Carville' s  dishke  of  the  pruriently 
modern.     He  stood  by  the  door  of  the  studio,  one 
hand  on  the  jamb,  the  other  under  his  coat,  the 
plain  gold  albert  stretched  across  his  broad  person, 
the  Hght  shining  on  his  smooth  pink  forehead  as 
he  looked  down  at  his  crossed  legs.     It  has  occurred 
to  me  from  time  to  time,  that  this  unobtrusive 
man,  with  his  bizarre  record  and  eccentric  men- 
tality, was  evolving  behind  the  mask  of  his  medio- 
crity a  new  type.     That  this  process  was  only  half 
dehberate  I  am  ready  to  believe.     A  man  who 
disciplines  his  soul  by  flinging  overboard  the  manu- 
script of  a  book  does  not  thereby  slay  his  imagina- 
tion.    He  only  drives  it  inward.     When  we  first 


276  ALIENS 

came  to  America  we  planted  all  our  seeds  in  the 
garden  too  deep  and  they  grew  downward,  assum- 
ing awful  and  grotesque  forms.  In  some  such  way 
Mr.  Carville's  imagination  was  working  within  him, 
fashioning,  as  I  say,  a  new  type.  I  insist  upon  this, 
inasmuch  as  beyond  it  I  have  no  mementoes  of 
him.  Both  he  and  his  are  gone  from  our  im- 
mediate observation,  and  though  we  may  hear  from 
him  again,  as  a  ship  passing  in  the  night,  a  rotund 
meditative  figure  pacing  the  deck  of  some  out- 
bound freighter,  so  far  I  remember  him  mainly 
by  this  intellectual  inversion.  For  him  the  sup- 
pression of  passion  had  become  a  passion  ;  for  him 
individuality  was  cloaked  by  the  commonplace. 
In  his  way  he  made  a  contribution  to  art ;  he  had 
hinted  at  the  possibihties  underlying  a  new  com- 
bination of  human  characters.  He  had  given 
strange  hostages  to  Fortune,  so  that  Fortune 
hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  them.  It  is  possible 
that  the  abrupt  and  dramatic  disappearance  from 
his  life  (I  refer  to  his  brother)  has  slackened  the  in- 
tensity of  his  hold  upon  this  idea  ;  but  I  do  not 
know. 

He  left  us  that  evening  quietly  and  without  fuss. 
He  had,  in  a  notable  degree,  the  neat  movements 
and  economy  of  gesture  which  I  can  imagine  indis- 
pensable to  those  who  lived  in  confined  cabins 
and  take  their  walks  upon  decks  beneath  which 
their  shipmates  sleep.  In  a  quiet  indescribable 
way  there  was  manifest  in  his  demeanour  a 
gentle    repudiation     of    all    things     traditionally 


ALIENS  277 

EngKsh.  You  could  not  possibly  imagine  him 
vociferating  *'  God  save  the  King ''  or  "  Sons 
of  the  Sea."  With  a  simple  dignity  he  had  assumed 
the  dun  livery  of  the  ahen,  and  there  was  to  me  a 
certain  fineness  in  the  sentiment  that  forbade  any 
flaunting  of  the  nationality  in  the  faces  of  his  native- 
born  children. 

And  in  the  midst  of  oiu:  musings,  just  before  we 
turned  out  the  lights,  it  occurred  to  me  quite  sud- 
denly that,  since  he  had  finished  his  story,  it  was 
quite  possible  that  we  should  not  see  him  again. 


CHAPTER  XII 

The  Vision  from  the  Kills 

For  a  long  time  tliat  night  I  lay  watching  the  gem- 
like ghtter  of  the  lights  that  fringed  the  eastern 
horizon.  A  strong  north  wind  shook  the  house, 
sweeping  the  clouds  before  it  with  a  contemptuous 
energy  that  had  in  it  a  promise  of  frost  on  the 
morrow.  As  the  stars  rose  it  was  as  though  the 
hghts  of  the  city  themselves  were  rising  into  the 
clear  sky,  emblems  of  the  vast  and  serene  power 
that  had  sent  them  forth.  High  above  the  level 
constellations  soared  the  two  gi'eat  beacons  of  the 
Metropohtan  and  Woolworth  towers,  hke  the  mast- 
head hghts  of  some  enormous  vessel,  while  away 
northward,  almost  hidden  by  the  swinging  hmbs 
of  our  elm,  the  occulting  flash  on  the  Times  Build- 
ing added  a  disquieting  element  to  the  otherwise 
peaceful  scene.  For  me  at  least  the  glamour,  the 
mystery  and  the  beauty  of  that  amazing  city  had 
never  worn  thin.  For  me,  after  a  day  in  her  roar- 
ing streets,  after  a  scramble  in  her  lotteries,  there 
ever  comes  to  me  a  recrudescence  of  that  wonder 
with  which  I  beheld  my  first  view  of  her  from  the 
Jersey  shore.     The  cynical  American  says,  I  know 

Note.— The  word    "Kill"   is  Dutch  in  origin  and  signifies  very 
much  the  same  as  Kyle  (Scet),  meaning  a  deep  arm  of  the  aca. 

278 


ALIENS  279 

not  with  what  truth,  that  the  ahen,  chitching  his 
bundle  and  gazing  with  anxious,  frightened  eyes 
toward  the  mountainous  masonry  of  Manhattan, 
catching  sight  of  the  green  sun-ht  image  of  Liberty 
with  her  benign  unfaltering  regard,  holds  his  breath 
and  feels  within  his  bosom  a  fierce  but  short-lived 
ecstasy  of  joy.  For  one  brief  instant  (I  still  quote 
the  cynical  American)  faith  and  hope  flame  in  his 
heart  and  the  future  hes  before  him  as  a  shining 
pathway  of  industry  and  peace. 

For  me,  however,  the  impression  that  New  York 
had  made  was  neither  so  unpractical  nor  so  evane- 
scent. For  me  there  was  reserved  a  certain  fear 
of  those  multitudes  and  those  heaven-kissing 
towers,  an  apprehension  that  even  a  species  of 
victory  after  defeat  had  not  sufficed  to  dethrone. 
Call  it  perhaps  awe,  mingled  with  homage  to 
the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  race,  rather  than 
fear. 

This  I  felt,  and  every  visit  to  the  heart  of  the 
city  quickened  it,  stirring  my  imagination  to  some 
fresh  efiort,  and  reveahng  some  new  phase  of  the 
exhaustless  energy  of  America. 

It  was  only  natural  that  in  the  course  of  my 
musings  it  should  strike  me  as  strange  that  Mr. 
Carville  displayed  no  shadow  either  of  reverence  or 
dishke  for  a  place  which  impressed  itself  upon  me 
more  even  than  San  Francisco  or  Chicago.  It 
seemed  to  me  strange  that  a  man  so  sensitive  to 
detail,  so  conscious  of  the  scant  poetry  of  the 
commonplace,   should   have   no   feeUng   for   that 


280  ALIENS 

astonishing  accident  which  we  call  New  York  City. 
That  he  was  not  aware  of  her  I  refused  absolutely 
to  credit.  If  he  could  feel  the  beauty  of  Genoa  and 
the  immensity  of  London,  he  must  necessarily  be 
conscious  of  the  subhmity  of  Manhattan.  I  re- 
gretted that  I  had  not  led  him  to  speak  of  this.  I 
regretted  the  possibility  of  seeing  him  no  more. 
I  felt  a  pertinacious  curiosity  about  him,  as  a  man 
who  could  contemplate  with  equanimity  a  spectacle 
that  for  me  held  always  an  inscrutable  problem. 
To  the  disgust  of  the  cynical  American  I  always 
waved  aside  Washington  and  even  Boston,  ignored 
even  that  mysterious  bourne,  the  "  Middle  West,'' 
and  claimed  that  he  who  found  the  secret  of  New 
York  had  also  found  the  secret  of  America.  As  I 
drowsed  that  night  I  registered  a  vague  resolve 
to  see  Mr.  Carville  again  and  broach  the  subject  to 
him.  I  felt  sure  that  in  some  way  or  other  he 
would  add  something  to  my  knowledge,  not  only  of 
the  city,  but  of  himself. 

I  became  aware  of  Mac's  voice  in  my  ear,  and 
struggling  to  rise,  saw  that  he  held  in  his  hand  a 
letter  bearing  a  special-dehvery  stamp.  It  is  one 
of  the  terrors,  and  no  doubt  advantages  of  the 
American  mail,  that  a  letter  may  descend  upon 
one  at  unexpected  hours.  You  may  be  locking  up 
for  the  night,  or  enjoying  your  beauty  sleep  in  the 
early  morn,  when  a  breathless  messenger  will  hammer 
at  your  door  with  a  letter,  quite  possibly  containing 
a  bill.     Such  a  missive  my  friend  held  over  me  like 


ALIENS  281 

a  Damocles  sword,  between  thumb  and  finger,  and 
awaited  the  news  with  interest. 

It  did  not,  however,  contain  a  bill.  It  was  a 
request  from  an  advertising  agency  to  proceed  to 
Pleasant  Plains,  S.I.,  and  interview  the  president 
of  a  realty  company  who  desired  what  we  call 
tersely  enough  a  "  write-up,"  an  essentially  modern 
development  of  English  Literature,  in  my  opinion. 
Mac  maintains  with  stubborn  ingenuity  that  Doctor 
Johnson  and  Goldsmith  did  "  write-ups,"  just  as 
Shakespeare  wrote  melodramas,  and  Turner  did 
"  bird's-eye  views."  I  make  no  such  claim.  The 
point  is  that  a  write-up  brings  in  fifty  dollars, 
while  sonnets  are  a  drug  in  the  market.  For  this 
reason  I  sprang  out  of  bed  with  unusual  alacrity 
and  prepared  to  catch  the  eight  o'clock  express. 

"  It  may  mean  a  '  bird's-eye,'  "  I  remarked,  as 
I  bolted  my  breakfast. 

"  You  can  make  the  suggestion,"  returned  Mac, 
passing  me  half  a  grape  fruit.  "  There's  no  need 
to  introduce  either  mosquitoes  or  ice-floes  into  a 
*  bird's-eye.'  "  This  in  reference  to  New  Yorkers' 
objections  to  Staten  Island. 

"  I  shan't  mention  them  in  the  booklet  unless  they 
specially  ask  me  to,"  I  said  with  a  grin.  We  are 
always  facetious  when  a  new  job  comes  up.  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  the  immortals  were  much 
the  same. 

Catching  the  eight  o'clock  express  is  with  us 
rather  a  legend  than  a  solid  fact,  in  spite  of  our 
vaunted  breakfast  at  half  after  seven.     One  has 


282  ALIENS 

to  shave,  collect  the  necessary  papers,  put  on  one's 
boots,  pocket  tobacco  and  matches,  run  upstairs 
for  a  fresh  handkerchief,  and  do  multitudinous 
other  things  that  somehow  or  other  take  time.  As 
a  rule  we  find  ourselves  half-way  to  the  station,  rmi- 
ning  breathlessly,  only  to  find  that  we  have  two  left- 
hand  gloves,  or  that  some  vitally  important  docu- 
ment has  been  left  behind.  The  seasoned  commu- 
ter, by  long  and  arduous  practice,  eliminates  these 
errors ;  but  we,  who  go  to  New  York  but  once  in  a 
week  or  so,  are  unskilled  in  early  morning  hustles,  and 
generally  see  the  tail-end  of  the  express  disappearing 
in  the  cutting.  This  morning,  however,  I  managed 
to  get  out  of  the  house  by  three  minutes  to  eight, 
sufficient  time  for  an  athlete  to  do  the  half-mile 
to  the  station.  With  a  silent  prayer  that  the  train 
might  be  a  few  moments  overdue  I  raced  across 
the  lot  and  down  Pine  Street. 

I  saw,  as  I  hurried  down  the  straight  incline  of 
Walnut  Avenue,  that  I  was  in  time,  and  slackened 
my  pace  to  a  walk.  The  morning,  as  I  had  ex- 
pected, was  clear  and  cold ;  a  sharp  frost  had 
glazed  the  puddles  in  the  roadway,  and  on  the 
uplands  of  the  further  bank  of  the  Pasayack 
River  light  patches  of  snow  lay  among  the  trees. 
The  sun  shone  gloriously  in  a  blue  sky,  and  a  keen 
wind  blew  the  leaves  into  swirling  eddies  about 
the  stoops  of  the  houses.  At  the  bottom  of  the 
hill  was  the  station,  a  small  low -roofed  structure 
of  wood.  Some  score  of  commuters  were  clustered 
about  it,  and  I  perceived,  seated  sedately  upon  a 


ALIENS  283 

hand-truck,  his  feet  crossed,  his  corn-cob  drawing 
serenely,  and  his  brown-gloved  hands  holding  a 
copy  of  the  New  York  Daily  News,  none  other 
than  Mr.  Carville. 

He  raised  his  hand  in  salute  as  I  came  up.  I 
hurried  into  the  office  to  buy  a  ticket,  and  the 
train  came  in  as  I  came  out,  the  locomotive -bell 
clanging  faintly  above  the  gasp  of  the  air-brakes 
and  the  blowing  of  steam. 

''  Good  morning,"  I  said.  "  You  are  away 
early." 

We  climbed  into  the  smoker  and  took  a  seat  not 
likely  to  incommode  the  card-players. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  I  expect  we'll  be  going 
out  to-night,  you  see,  and  it  wouldn't  do  for  the 
Chief  to  miss  his  passage,  would  it  ?  " 

''  So  soon  !  "  I  said,  in  some  surprise. 

Mr.  Carville  gave  me  one  of  his  quick  good- 
tempered  glances. 

*'  Soon  ?  "  he  echoed.  "  Do  you  know,  sir,  how 
long  it  takes  to  load  the  Iroquois  ?  Just  eight 
hours.     Humph  !  " 

Mr.  Carville  was  fond  of  using  this  ejaculation  of 
his  in  a  double  sense,  if  I  may  say  so.  As  he  spoke 
his  eyes  were  fixed  with  some  interest  upon  four 
of  our  neighbours,  who  had  seated  themselves  near 
us  and  had  laid  a  grey  mill-board  card-table  across 
their  knees.  Whether  it  was  the  card -table,  or  the 
extraordinary  speed  with  which  the  Iroquois  was 
loaded,  that  excited  his  amusement,  I  am  unable 
to  decide.     I  was  too  famihar  with  the  mania  of 


284  ALIENS 

Americans  for  gambling  in  trains  to  take  much 
notice  of  it.  It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Carville  was 
less  sophisticated. 

"  That,"  I  said,  "  does  not  give  you  much  time 
on  shore." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  doesn't.  Speaking  in  a 
general  way,  we're  glad  to  get  to  sea.  In  port,  at 
this  end  at  any  rate,  it's  one  continual  rush.  Shore 
people  have  very  little  consideration  for  sea- going 
men.  They  come  and  bang  at  your  door  any  time, 
day  or  night.  You  may  be  changing  your  shift — 
don't  matter,  in  they  come.  Some  business  or 
other.  At  sea,"  he  concluded,  "  we  do  have  a  little 
peace." 

"  Where  are  you  bound  for  ?  "  I  asked,  opening 
my  paper. 

"  Oh,  Savona  or  some  Riviera  port,  I  expect. 
They  don't  give  us  our  orders  till  we're  of!  Sandy 
Hook.  You're  going  to  New  York  I  suppose, 
sir,  on  business  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  exactly.  I'm  going  to  Staten  Island," 
I  replied,  "  and  I  beheve  this  is  the  quickest  way." 

He  regarded  me  with  astonishment. 

''  Is  that  so  ?  I  suppose  you'll  be  taking  the 
ferry  to  St.  George,  then  ?  "  • 

I  said  that  such  was  my  intention,  and  asked 
why. 

''  Why,  you  see,  I'm  going  that  way  myself,  to 
Communipaw.     The  Iroquois  is  lying  down  there." 

"  Dear  me  !     It  never  struck  me "  I  began. 

He  laughed  quietly. 


ALIENS  285 

!■■■ 

*'  No,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  suppose,  if  you  asked 
a  thousand  New  Yorkers  where  such  and  such  a 
ship  was  loaded,  that  not  more  than  one  could  tell 
you.  They  know  the  Lusitania  lies  somewhere  about 
Eighteenth  Street  and  the  Oceanic' s  next  to  her, 
and  that's  about  all.  It's  the  same  everywhere. 
Ask  a  man  in  the  Strand  how  to  get  to  Tidal 
Basin ;  he  won't  know  what  Tidal  Basin  is, 
let  alone  wJiere  it  is.  As  for  an  oil-boat — 
Humph  !  " 

"  I  shall  have  your  company,  then  ?  "  I  said.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  you  don't  object,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  I  should  hke  it  above  all  things,"  I  returned. 
"  I  was  thinking  last  night,  that  there  were  many 
things- 1  should  like  to  ask  you,  but  I  was  afraid 
that  possibly  you  might  not  visit  us  again  for  a 
long  time." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "  I  was  very  glad  to  step 
in.  You've  got  an  atmosphere  ...  if  I  can  call 
it  that.  I  mean  there's  something  I  don't  get  on  a 
ship,  or  for  that  matter,  at  home  .  .  .  you 
understand  ?  Now  and  again  I  feel  I'd  like  to 
talk  to  people  who  do  understand." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  I  said,  ''  that  I  have  been 
wondering  how  New  York  impresses  you.  I  think 
it  is  rather  wonderful  myself." 

Mr.  Carville  smoked  silently  for  a  few  moments 
while  the  card-players  pursued  their  games  and  the 
train  thundered  through  the  flat  swamps  of  River- 
side, 


286  ALIENS 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it,"  he  asked,  "  from  the 
Narrows  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head.  The  Campania  had  come  up 
in  a  dank  fog,  when  I  had  arrived  seven  years  before. 
I  mentioned  the  customs  formahties  that  keep 
one  below  at  such  a  time.  Mr.  Carville  smiled 
gently. 

"  I  always  think,"  he  said,  "  that  for  an  artist, 
that  view  is  the  best,  because  it's  the  first.  I  was 
looking  at  that  picture  in  your  friend's  studio  last 
night ;  that  one  of  New  York  from  Brooklyn, 
and  I  couldn't  help  noticing  how  heavy  he'd  made 
it.  See  what  I  mean  ?  He  was  too  close.  The 
weight  of  the  buildings  gets  on  one's  mind.  That's 
the  trouble  with  Americans,  anyway.  They  show 
you  a  building  and  tell  you  the  weight  of  it,  and  then 
the  cost  of  it.  Even  women  are  judged  by  their 
weight.  Only  last  night  I  saw  in  the  papers  some- 
thing about  a  suffragette.  They  said  she  weighed  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  !  I  think  it  is  a  mistake, 
myself.  Tonnage  is  all  right  in  a  ship  ;  but  it 
doesn't  signify  much,  either  in  a  city  or  a  woman." 

Rather  astonished,  I  agreed  that  this  was  sound 
aesthetic  doctrine. 

"  Now,"  went  on  Mr.  Carville,  "  if  you  ask  me 
how  New  York  impresses  me,  I  should  say  that  it 
reminds  me  of  Venice." 

The  train  stopped  at  Newark.  For  an  instant  I 
was  quite  unable  to  determine  whether  Mr.  Carville 
was  joking  or  not.  One  look  at  his  face,  however, 
precluded  any  such  resolution.     T  waited  until  the 


ALIENS  287 

doors  banged  and  the  train  was  moving  before  I 
said,  "  In  what  way,  Mr.  Carville  ?  " 

"  Mind  you,  it  may  not  impress  you  in  any  way 
like  Venice " 

"  I  regret  never  to  liave  been  there,"  I  interrupted. 

"  You  may,"  he  assented.  "  You  may.  A  man 
can  do  easy  enough  without  ever  seeing  Naples; 
but  Venice ah  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  imagine  that,"  I  said,  "  but  in  what 
way "  ? 

"  Well,  ril  show  you,  as  you're  going  to  St. 
George — San  Georgia  as  you  might  say  " — he 
chuckled — "  and  you  can  tell  me  what  you  think." 

1  fell  into  a  study  at  this,  a  study  that  lasted  until 
the  train  slid  slowly  into  Jersey  City  and  we  joined 
the  throng  that  were  hurrying  towards  Chambers 
Street  Ferry.  I  decided  to  let  the  matter  stand 
over  for  the  moment.  It  would  not  do  to  act 
illiberally  towards  a  man  who  combined  a  know- 
ledge of  sea-faring  with  Italian  literature,  and  who 
had  evidently  arrived,  however  unacademically,  at 
certain  original  judgments  and  criteria  of  life.  1 
offered  no  remarks  as  the  Erie  ferry  bore  us  swiftly 
across  the  gUttering  and  congested  Hudson  to 
Chambers  Street,  and  I  observed  that  Mr.  Carville 
was  absorbed  in  watching  how  the  vessel  was  piloted 
among  the  traffic.  It  was  natural  that  his  imagina- 
tion should  be  stirred  by  a  famihar  skill.  As 
we  crossed  the  bows  of  an  incoming  liner  I  saw 
his  eyes  sweep  over  her,  keen,  critical,  appraising. 
No  doubt  he  saw  many  things  that  escaped  iny 


288  ALIENS 

landward  vision.  For  me  ships  are  very  much 
ahke.  I  expect  he  reahzed  this  and  forbore  to 
bewilder  me  with  matters  of  technical  interest.  I 
have  a  sneaking  appreciation  of  the  mystery  and 
beauty  of  a  ship  in  full  sail  on  the  open  sea,  an 
appreciation  I  scarcely  cared  to  reveal  to  an 
engineer.  He  stood  by  my  side  on  the  upper  deck, 
his  corn-cob  in  his  hand,  imperturbably  observant, 
a  miracle  of  detached  respectabihty.  And  he 
thought  New  York  hke  Venice ! 

Nor  did  we  talk  very  much  as  we  walked  quickly 
down  West  Street  to  the  Battery.  Once  he  looked 
at  his  watch  and  remarked  that  he  wanted  ''  to  bo 
aboard  by  ten.''  The  sun  shone  on  the  water 
dazzhngly  as  we  rounded  the  end  of  Manhattan, 
showing  the  hull  of  the  ElHs  Island  ferry  a  black 
mass.  The  usual  crowd  of  foreigners  with  their 
dark  eyes  and  Slavic  features,  shoe-shine  boys, 
touts  and  officials  waited  around  the  entrance.  I 
put  my  hand  on  Mr.  Carville's  arm. 

"  Our  steamer  isn't  in  yet,"  I  said.  "  Suppose 
we  see  them  land." 

He  glanced  up  and  nodded,  and  we  paused. 

As  the  ferry  came  alongside  the  crowd  gradually 
drew  together  more  closely,  and  some,  who  had 
been  sitting  in  dejection  on  the  seats,  rose  and 
joined  us.  A  tall  poHceman  walked  to  and  fro, 
keeping  us  back,  bending  his  head  to  hsten  to  a 
woman  with  a  baby.  Young  men  in  flashy  button- 
boots  and  extravagantly-cut  clothes  chuckled 
among  themselves,  wliile  two  serious-looking  men 


ALIENS  289 

talked  German,  an  endless  argument.  Above 
us  the  Stars  and  Stripes  fluttered  and  snapped  in 
the  breeze,  and  the  trains  on  the  Elevated  Road 
crawled  carefully  round  the  curve.  Now  and  again 
the  deep  bellow  of  a  steamer's  whistle  smote  on  our 
ears,  smears  of  sound  on  the  persistent  roar  of  the 
city  behind  us.  The  feet  of  the  Httle  crowd 
shuffled  as  they  shifted  to  get  a  better  view,  and 
two  boys,  chewing  gum,  cUmbed  on  the  seats  and 
stood  up.  A  smafl  girl  of  ten  or  so  sped  past  on 
roller-skates,  uttering  shrill  cries  to  a  companion 
beyond  the  grass-plot.  And  then  the  gates  opened 
and  they  came  out  to  us,  a  httle  flock  of  frightened 
animals,  each  with  his  ticket  pinned  on  his  breast, 
each  looking  round  for  an  instant  as  sheep  do  when 
let  out  of  a  pen,  instantly  herded  by  officials  in 
peaked  caps.  A  big  unshaved  man  in  a  black 
sheepskin  cap  opened  his  arms  and  the  woman 
with  the  baby  hurried  to  him.  A  smart  girl  behind 
us  pushed  through  and  went  up  to  a  sullen-looking 
old  man  with  a  Derby  hat  and  a  liigh-arched 
nose.  The  boys  on  the  seat  exchanged  ribaldry 
that  drew  the  eyes  of  the  tall  pohceman  to  them,  and 
they  vanished.  The  httle  crowd  of  ahens  began  to 
move  towards  the  East  Side  and  we  followed  as 
far  as  the  Staten  Island  Ferry.  I  turned  to  Mr. 
Carville,  thinking  he  might  have  some  comment  to 
make.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  drew  out 
his  httle  brass  tobacco-box. 

"  Humph  !  ''  he  said.     ''  They've  got  it  all  to 
come,''  and  began  to  pare  the  tobacco  into  his  hand. 

T 


290  ALIENS 

I  could  detect  no  sympathy  in  his  tone,  only  a  grim 
humour  and  contempt  for  the  creduhty  of  those 
trembUng  peasants  now  hurrying  to  their  doom. 
And  as  I  thought  of  this,  quite  suddenly  he  began 
to  talk  of  his  brother. 

*'  I've  often  wondered  what  Frank  would  have 
made  of  all  this/'  he  said,  waving  his  hand  towards 
the  sweep  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.  "  Not  that  Fd 
Hke  him  to  come  near  me  and  mine,  but  just  out 
of  curiosity,  Fve  wondered.'' 

"  I  should  say  he  would  be  likely  to  get  on  well,'* 
I  said. 

"  You're  right — he  would  !  He  would  take  hold 
right  away  and  as  they  say  here  get  away  with  it. 
He's  a  citizen  of  the  world,  is  Frank.  He'd  be  on 
Fifth  Avenue  or  in  Sing  Sing  within  a  twelvemonth. 
But  there's  no  need  for  him  to  come  to  America. 
He's  fallen  on  his  feet  again  apparently  in  London. 
I  hope  he  stops  there." 

"  You  seem  to  have  some  secret  fear  of  your 
brother,  Mr.  Carville "  I  began. 

''  Secret  ?  There's  nothing  secret  about  it,  sir. 
I'm  scared  of  him.  You  don't  know  him,  so  you 
can't  understand  how  you'd  feel  about  it.  I  tell 
you  the  mere  presence  of  that  chap  in  the  room 
unsettles  peoj^le.  He's  a  disturbing  influence. 
Even  strangers  notice  it.  Suppose  he  was  over 
here,  and  me  away  in  the  Mediterranean  ?  You've 
no  idea  how  he  can  talk  and  wheedle  and  explain 
everything  to  suit  his  own  ends.     I  do." 

I  did  not  say  so,  but  I  understood  Mr.  Caryille'g 


ALIENS  291 

feelings.     Cecil's  letters  bore  him  out  very  com- 
pletely. 

"  There's  another  thing  you  may  not  appreciate. 
When  you're  married  you  will,  no  doubt.  A  man 
and  his  wife  aren't  always  on  the  same  dead  level 
terms  with  each  other.  Little  differences,  lasting 
perhaps  an  hour  or  a  minute,  sometimes  till  break- 
fast, crop  up.  They  may  rub  each  other's  raw 
places,  so  to  speak.  Even  in  a  case  like  mine, 
here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow,  we  can  get  on, 
each  other's  nerves.  There's  friction  in  every 
machine  .  .  .  unavoidable.  You  understand 
me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  As  well  as  a  bachelor  can,  I 
think  I  appreciate  your  point.  You  mean  that 
since  you  can't  foresee  these  minor  affairs  and 
since  you  may  leave  home  before  the  clouds  roll 
by  .  .  ." 

"  That's  just  it !  Imagine  a  man  Hke  Frank 
living  next  door  say,  a  man  who  has  known  Kosa, 
as  I  told  you  .  .  .  See  ?  " 

As  we  stepped  upon  the  ferry  I  noticed  that  his 
features  were  sharp  and  bore  the  impress  of  a  quite 
unusual  secret  care.  I  felt  guiltily  that  we  had 
been  unwise  to  tell  so  much  to  the  painter-cousin. 
Who  could  tell  what  it  might  not  lead  to,  even  after 
so  long  an  interval,  with  so  incalculable  a  man  as 
this  brother  ? 

I  With  the  bellow  of  the  whistle  Mr.  Carville's 
face  cleared  and  assumed  its  wonted  placidity. 
The  deck  trenabled  as  the  screw  began  to  revolve. 


292  ALIENS, 

and  imperceptibly  we  moved  out  towards  Gover- 
nor's Island.  It  was  just  here,  I  think,  as  we  began 
our  little  six -mile  journey  to  St.  George,  that  a 
sudden  illumination  came  to  me.  I  understood 
Mr.  Carville's  reason  for  waiting  instead  of  explain 
ing  his  impression  of  New  York.  He  gave  mej 
credit,  apparently,  for  the  ability  to  find  it  out  for 
myself. 

The  vessel  was  going  swiftly  now  over  the  shinin 
waters  of  New  York  Bay.     To  the  left  lay  the  lo 
and  sombre  buildings  of  Governor's  Island ;    t 
the  right  the  prison-Hke  pile  of  ElHs  Island  showed 
red  in  the  sunlight.     On  either  side  the  shores 
fell  away  from  us,  leaving  Bartholdi's  statue,  foi 
a  brief  moment,  the  dominant  note  in  the  scene, 
Quickly  we  hurried  by,  and  Black  Tom,  with  his 
fringe  of  cranes  and  stacks,  his  dark  panoply  o 
low -lying  smoke,  was  revealed.     Before  us  uprose 
the  wooded  heights  of  Staten  Island,  and  far  dowi 
the  Narrows  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  Atlantic, 
couple  of  tramp  steamers,  one  with  much  red  pain 
on  her  bows,  were  coming  up  past  us,  and  I  notice 
the  Red  Ensign  was  flying  from  the  poop.     Wit 
large  gestures  Mr.  Carville's  arm  swept  the  horizon 
indicating   the    salient   points.     Almost    before 
was  aware  of  it  we  were  entering  the  ferry  statioi! 
and  he  was  calling  my  attention  to  the  chimneys  anc 
buildings  on  the  Communipaw  shore. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  as  we  emerged  upon  the  street 
"  your  road  Hcs  down  the  coast,  but  if  you  have  ar 
hour  to  spare,  you  might  come  over  and  look  at  th<  ^ 


ALIENS  293 

ship.  We'll  take  the  trolley  to  New  Brighton  and 
ferry  across  from  there.     But  of  course " 

"  With  pleasure,"  I  said  hastily.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  I  could  do  worse  than  visit  Mr.  Carville's 
ship.     We  boarded  a  trolley-car. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Carville,  "  I'm  interested  in 
'Staten  Island.  In  a  way  it's  very  English.  About 
a  year  ago  I  bought  a  lot  up  at  Richmond  Bridge. 
The  house  will  be  ready  in  the  spring  and  we'll  move 
in.  I've  had  a  fancy  for  a  long  while  to  have  a  home 
of  my  own.  We  did  think  of  buying  in  your  part, 
but  it's  rather  a  long  way  for  me,  besides  being  dear." 

*'  You'll  be  leaving  Van  Diemen's  Avenue  ?  "  I 
said.     He  nodded. 

''  Sure.  The  wife's  not  very  anxious  to  stay  out 
there.  She's  funny  in  some  ways.  Thinks  there's 
a  prejudice  against  her." 

"  I  assure  you— — "  I  began. 

''  Oil,  I  don't  mean  you,  sir.  She  means  in  the 
stores.  She's  heard  things  .  .  .  Women  are 
quick  to  take  offence.  She  has  her  own  way  of 
living  and  it's  a  good  way.  We  shouldn't  like  to 
feel  we  weren't  wanted.  And  you  know,  in  your 
parts,  there's  a  good  deal  of  gentility  creeping  in. 
I  was  reading  the  local  paper  last  night  .  .  .  Mrs. 
This  and  Mrs.  That  entertaining  to  bridge,  and  so 
on  !     Humph  !  " 

The  car  jingled  and  swayed  round  the  corners, 
keeping  close  to  the  shore,  and  pulled  up  with  a 
jerk  at  New  Brighton.  Across  the  narrow  belt  ol 
water  I  could  see  the  sterns  of  many  ships. 


294  ALIENS 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Mr.  Carville.  "  The  launch 
starts  down  there." 

A  stiff  breeze  was  blowing  and  we  were  occupied 
with  our  hats  until  we  reached  the  Communipaw 
side.  Mr.  Carville  muttered  a  warning  about  no 
smoking  ''  .  .  .  five  hundred  dollars  fine  .  .  . 
necessary,  you  see,"  and  I  saw  his  corn-cob  no  more 
until  we  reached  his  room. 

"  There  she  is,"  he  remarked,  indicating  two  very 
red  funnels  projecting  above  a  roof.  "  That's  the 
Iroquois,'''^ 

A  faint  smell  of  petroleum  was  in  the  air  as  we 
threaded  our  way  among  the  blue-ended  barrels  and 
lengths  of  oily  hose.  In  one  way  this  ship  of  Mr. 
Carville 's  was  novel  to  me.  There  was  about  her 
decks  no  noise  of  cranes  lifting  cargo,  no  open 
hatchways,  no  whiffs  of  steam  or  screaming  of 
pulley-blocks,  with  huge  bales  of  merchandise 
swinging  in  mid-air.  4s  we  ascended  the  accom- 
modation ladder  I  saw  nothing  save  a  young  man 
with  thick  gauntlets  standing  guard  over  an  iron 
wheel  valve  in  a  big  pipe  that  ran  along  the  deck. 
A  stout  iron-grey  man  in  uniform  was  leaning 
against  the  sky-light  on  the  poop-deck  as  we  came 
past  the  funnels.  With  a  slight  bashfulness  Mr. 
Carville  turned,  and  making  a  vague  introductory 
gesture,  pronounced  our  names.  I  caught  the 
words  *'  Chief  Officer  "  and  *'  come  to  have  a  look 
round  !  "  There  was  a  httle  further  parley,  in 
which  the  "  Old  Man,"  "stores,"  and  "  The  Second  " 
bore  some  part.     1  did  not  pay  much  attention 


ALIENS  295 

to  the  conversation,  to  tell  the  truth.  I  was  looking 
northward  across  New  York  Bay  and  comprehend- 
ing the  significance  of  Mr.  Carville's  parallel 
between  Manhattan  and  the  City  of  the  Lagoons. 
For  a  moment  I  forgot  that  I  was  standing  on  the 
deck  of  a  ship.  From  my  lacustrine  vantage  the 
whole  of  the  wide  harbour  lay  in  view,  the  more 
distant  edge  of  Long  Island  forming  an  irregular 
and  dusky  line  betwixt  the  blue  waters  and  the 
bluer  sky.  In  the  middle  distance  stood  the  statue 
of  Liberty,  islanded  in  the  incoming  tide-way, 
while  away  beyond,  rising  in  superb  splendour 
from  a  pearly  haze,  the  innumerable  towers  of 
Manhattan  floated  and  gleamed  before  my  eyes. 
Irresistibly  there  came  to  me  a  memory  of  Turner's 
Venetian  masterpieces,  and  I  knew  that  even 
that  great  magician  would  have  seized  upon  the 
scene  before  me  with  avidity,  would  have  delighted 
in  the  fairy-Hke  threads  of  the  bridges,  the  poetic 
groupings  of  the  vast  buildings,  and  the  innumerable 
fenestrations  of  the  campanili.  One  by  one  half- 
forgotten  fragments  of  Byron  came  back  to  me  as 
I  looked  out  across  the  wide  lagoon.  I  thought  of 
Venice  ''  throned  on  her  hundred  Isles,'"  of  him 
who  said, 

"  I  loved  her  from  my  boyhood  ;   she  to  me 
Was  as  a  fairy  city  of  the  heart, 
Eising  Hke  water-columns  from  the  sea, 
Of  joy  the  sojourn  and  of  wealth  the  mart ;  " 

One  by  one,  moreover,  there  came  before  me 
still  more  convincing  evidence  that  this  casual 


296  ALIENS 

analogy  had  in  it  a  deeper  significance,  that  here 
the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  was  indeed  resuscitated 
and  the  Venetian  Repubhc  born  to  a  subhmer 
destiny.  Surely  the  same  indomitable  spirit,  the 
same  high  courage,  that  had  reared  that  wondrous 
city  out  of  the  sea,  was  here  before  me,  piUng 
story  upon  story,  pinnacle  beyond  pinnacle,  till 
our  old-world  hearts  sickened  and  our  unaccustomed 
brains  grew  dizzy  at  the  sight. 

For  a  time — I  know  not  how  long — I  stood  with 
my  hand  on  the  rail,  looking  out  upon  that  vision 
from  the  hills.  I  heard  Mr.  Carville's  voice  behind 
me,  and  I  turned. 

'*  What  do  you  think,  sir  ?  ''  he  said,  and  waved 
his  hand. 

"  You  are  right,"'  I  replied  in  a  low  tone.  *'  You 
are  certainly  right.  As  for  your  San  Georgio/'  I 
smiled,  **  Tm  afraid,  Mr.  Carville,  you  are  a  cleverer 
man  than  I  thought  you  !  '' 

**  Come  down  and  have  a  smoke,"  he  said.  **  IVe 
some  letters  to  see  to.'* 

We  descended  the  companion-way  and  crossed 
a  large  cabin  with  berths  all  round.  Mr.  Carville 
selected  a  Yale  key  from  his  bunch  and  opened  his 
door.  A  young  man  in  a  soiled  serge  suit  came  out 
of  the  next  room  with  some  letters. 

''  Ah ! ''  said  Mr.  Carville,  hanging  up  his  Derby  hat, 
*'  How's  things,  mister  ?  "  and  he  took  the  letters. 

The  young  man  addressed  as  mister  made  several 
incoherent  remarks  of  a  technical  nature,  and  with 
a  glance  in  my  direction  withdrew. 


ALIENS  297 

"  Sit  down/'  said  Mr.  Carville,  shutting  the  door. 
"  You'll  excuse  me  for  a  minute  ?  '' 

I  sat  down  on  a  red  plush  settee  while  my  host 
settled  into  a  wicker  easy  chair  by  a  small  desk. 
The  room  by  our  computation  would  be  small,  yet 
I  perceived  that  Mr.  Carville  had  within  reach  of 
his  hand  almost  every  convenience  of  civihzation. 
At  his  elbow  was  a  telephone  and  a  speaking  tube  ; 
just  above  him  an  electric  fan.  Electric  lights 
were  placed  all  over  the  room.  His  bed  lay  below 
the  port-holes  and  a  wash-basin  of  pohshed 
mahogany  was  folded  up  beside  the  bed.  On  the 
table  were  cigars  and  whiskey.  And  between 
the  bed  and  the  wardrobe,  on  four  shelves,  were 
ranged  some  two  hundred  volumes  ;  even  for  a 
landsman  a  respectable  Hbrary. 

He  sat  for  some  moments  reading  his  letters  with 
patient  attention,  pinching  his  lower  hp  between 
thumb  and  finger.  My  estimate  of  him  had 
undergone  several  changes  since  leaving  the  Battery ; 
smce  leaving  deck,  even.  I  felt  somehow,  that  this 
quiet  sedate  person  was  no  longer  apologetic  in  his 
attitude  towards  me.  Here  he  was  master,  and  a 
subtle  alteration  of  his  demeanour  indicated  this 
to  me.  He  sat  there,  as  I  watched  him,  solid  and 
secure  by  inahenable  right  of  succession,  a  son  of 
that  stern,  imaginative  adventurer,  his  father ; 
a  son,  moreover,  of  that  sea  which  he  served  from 
year  to  year.  I  looked  up  at  the  photograph  of 
his  wife  which  he  had  mentioned,  a  photograph  set 
in  silver.     The  soft  shadows  of  the  platinotype 


298  ALIENS 

suited  Mrs.  Carville.  Evidently  this  had  been 
taken  about  the  time  of  her  marriage  ;  the  fine 
modeUing  of  her  face  and  the  poise  of  her  head  were 
instinct  with  youth.  In  her  eyes  I  fancied  some- 
thing of  the  mild  expression  with  which  she  accom- 
panied her  remark,  "  He  is  a  good  man/*  On  either 
side  of  the  silver  frame  were  small  pictures  of  the 
boys. 

Mr.  Carville  put  the  two  letters  in  a  wire  chp 
and  offered  me  a  cigar. 

"  Now  you  can  see  for  yourself,"  said  he,  "  where 
I  live."  He  laughed.  *'  I'm  one  of  the  few  people 
who  haven't  got  a  bad  word  to  say  of  the  Standard 
Oil  Co.  They  give  me  more  cubic  feet  of  private 
space,  bigger  cabin  space,  and  better  food  than  any 
shipowner  across  the  water.  They  give  me  any 
mortal  thing  for  my  engines  except  time  to  overhaul 
them.  The  newspapers  tell  me  they're  a  blood- 
sucking trust  battening  on  the  body-pohtic,  and 

so  on.     Personally "  and  Mr.  Carville  drew 

the  stopper  from  a  square  bottle,  "  person- 
ally, I  find  them  very  decent  people  to  work 
for." 

I  sat  looking  at  him  for  some  time  as  he  busied 
himself  with  a  drawer  which  contained,  he  assured 
me,  an  apollinaris.  It  struck  me  that  though  he 
had  gained  in  certain  external  trappings  of  the 
mind  since  entering  his  room,  he  had  ceased  to 
appear  to  me  as  a  heroic  figure.  Even  the  per- 
ception which  had  appreciated  the  grandeur  of 
New  York,  the  wit  which  had  connected  St.  George 


ALIENS  299 

with  San  Georgio  Maggiore,  seemed  to  me  incon- 
gruous with,  the  present  phase  of  his  character. 
Quite  possibly  I  had  been  so  drilled  in  hatred  of 
Standard  Oil  that  I  unconsciously  revolted  from 
the  notion  that  any  good  could  come  out  of  that 
protean  enterprise  ! 

"  You  serve  both  God  and  Mammon,"  I  remarked 
as  the  apollinaris  splashed  into  the  glass.  He 
nodded. 

''  That's  right,"  he  said.  "  They  say  you  can't, 
but  I  think  it's  a  mistake.  Something's  got  to 
bend  if  you're  going  to  make  both  ends  meet." 

I  agreed  that  this  was  so  and  scanned  the  books 
on  the  shelves.  They  at  least  were  a  noble  com- 
pany, their  gold  and  green  and  blue  broken  by  the 
plain  yellow  paper  backs  of  Italian  books.  Shakes- 
peare was  there  and  St.  Francis  of  Assisi :  Fors 
Clavigera  in  a  cabinet  edition ;  Symond's  Re- 
naissance and  Pater  in  wide- margined  dignity. 
Tucked  in  corners,  too,  were  books  in  that  quaint 
pocket  edition  of  the  Bihliotlieque  Nationale  : 
Rabelais,  in  five  volumes,  Beaumarchais'  Meynoirs, 
Rousseau,  Scarron's  Travesty  of  Virgil  and  that 
extraordinary  work  of  genius,  The  Maxims  of  La 
Eochefoucauld.  As  I  turned  them  over  I  saw  on 
their  pages  the  purple  rubber-stamps  of  some 
bookseller  in  Tunis,  Bizerta,  Tangier  and  other 
places  even  more  obscure.  I  had  a  vision  of  the 
man  making  his  way,  in  some  perspiration,  through 
the  press  of  Arabs  and  Moors  to  the  little  shop 
under  the  arches.     I  saw  him  scanning  the  shelves, 


300  ALIENS 

the  derby  hat  pushed  back,  the  vest  oj^en,  the 

thumb  and  finger  pinching  the  lower  hp I 

turned  to  him  with  a  worn  copy  of  Heine  in  my  hand. 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  I  must  fit  out  an  expedition, 
to  go  and  dredge  the  Java  Sea  for  that  manuscript 
you  threw  overboard." 

"  No,"  he  repHed,  settHng  in  his  chair.  ''  It 
wouldn't  be  worth  it." 

"  We  don't  often  find  a  man  who  could  do  it,"  I 
said. 

"  That's  because  they  lack  balance.  The  mistake 
artists  and  literary  people  make  is,  they  think  that 
because  a  thing  is  priceless,  we  can't  do  without 
it.  I  think  it's  a  mistake.  Someone  pays  half-a- 
miUion  dollars  for  a  Turner,  say.  Well,  even  if 
it  was  burnt  up,  lost  overboard,  what  of  it  ?  It 
can  be  done  again." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  I  asked.  I  was  glad  Mac 
did  not  hear  this. 

"Certainly!"  replied  Mr.  Carville.  "Every- 
thing's been  done,  which  is  a  sound  argument  for 
supposing  it  can  be  done  again.  There's  plenty  of 
men  doing  much  better  than  they  did  in  olden 
times.  I  can't  see  much  sense  in  the  theory  that 
because  a  picture  is  old  it's  a  masterpiece,  and 
because  it's  new  it's  junk.  We  ought  to  take 
longer  views.  How  do  ice  know  what  the  youngsters 
are  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  That  indeed  is  on  the  knees  of  the  gods," 
I  said  as  I  put  the  Heine  back  on  the  shelf.  I 
looked  at  my  watch. 


ALIENS  301 

"  I  must  be  of!  to  Pleasant  Plains,"  I  said.  *'  If 
you  are  not  going  out  at  once,  I  should  like  to  return 
in  the  afternoon ;   but  I  must  run  now." 

"  I  expect  we'll  be  bunkered  and  out  by  tea- 
time,"  he  said,  rising.  *'  Still,  some  other  time.  .  .  . 
We're  not  away  very  long,  month  or  so  .  .  ." 

He  followed  me  to  the  gangway  and  I  bade  him 
farewell  and  hon-voyage.  He  had  donned  a  double- 
breasted  coat  with  brass  buttons  and  a  cap  with 
a  badge  and  gold  cord  on  it.  The  effect  on  my 
mind  was  somewhat  disquieting.  He  seemed  to 
have  vanished  behind  a  gaudy  mask,  a  mask  whose 
sympathy  with  and  knowledge  of  me  was  inex- 
pressibly remote.  I  looked  back  as  I  crossed  over 
towards  the  ferry,  and  saw  him  in  deep  conver- 
sation with  the  Chief  Officer. 

It  took  me  some  time  to  reach  my  destination, 
and  I  was  scarcely  surprised  to  discover  that  the 
man  I  had  come  to  see  was  in  New  York.  So  far 
as  I  know  this  is  a  habit  peculiar  to  American 
business.  A  man  sends  an  urgent  message  to 
you  to  confer  with  him,  and  on  your  breathless 
arrival  you  find  he  is  gone  out  for  the  day.  I 
telephoned  in  various  directions  and  finally  obtained 
the  particulars  I  needed  from  a  young  man  who 
was  smoking  a  poor  cigar,  with  his  feet  on  the 
stove  rail  in  a  small  office  on  the  estate.  It  occurs 
to  me  that  this  young  man  was  defective  in  courtesy 
and  breeding.  I  remember  thinking  he  would  have 
been  improved  if  he  had  been  sent  to  sea.  Perhaps 
I  was  merely  out  of  sorts, 


302  ALIENS 

It  was  between  four  and  five  when  I  boarded 
the  Staten  Island  ferry  once  more.  The  wind 
had  gone  down  with  the  sun,  whose  red  globe 
flung  long  bars  of  ruddy  gold  athwart  the  still 
water.  I  took  my  stand  on  the  upper  deck. 
Once  again  I  looked  across  the  bay  and  beheld 
that  wonderful  vision  of  New  York  floating  above 
a  blue  haze,  a  mass  of  glittering  pinnacles  and 
rosepink  walls  flaunting  snowy  pennants  of  white 
vapour,  and  looped  to  the  sombre  vagueness  of 
Brooklyn  by  the  long  catenary  curves  of  the 
suspension  bridges.  As  the  steamer  started  I 
walked  aft,  that  I  might  not  see  the  dissolution 
of  the  phantasy.  It  may  be  a  weakness ;  but 
there  is  to  me,  mingled  with  all  perception  of 
beauty,  a  feeling  akin  to  pain.  Often  I  have 
envied  those  more  robust  souls  who  can  gaze 
with  unfaltering  eyes  at  the  beauty  of  this  world, 
and  feel  no  pang.  I  am  not  so.  I  was  absorbed 
in  this  thought  when  I  saw  a  steamer  mth  two 
red  funnels  coming  round  from  the  Kills.  At  the 
masthead  blew  a  flag  with  a  blue  eagle.  As  she 
came  across  our  track  I  saw  that  she  was  the 
Iroquois,  On  the  poop -deck  was  a  famihar  figure, 
short,  rotund  and  blue.  I  stepped  to  the  end  of 
the  deck  and  waved  my  hand.  Mr.  Carville  was 
walking  back  and  forth,  hands  in  pockets,  his  corn- 
cob pipe  in  his  mouth.  He  paused  and  caught 
my  signal,  answering  heartily.  As  the  distance 
between  us  increased  he  resumed  his  promenade, 
(ind  the  Iroquois,  threading  the  narrows,  dwindled 


ALIENS  303 

to  a  dark  blot  surmounted  by  a  patch  of  vivid 
red.  Once  again  I  turned  northwards,  and  the 
swift  dusk  of  evening  was  falling.  The  sun  had 
dropped  behind  the  Jersey  hills,  and  uprising 
behind  Manhattan  was  a  grey  mist  and  a  steely 
sky,  ominous  of  snow. 

As  I  walked  up  Pine  Street  to  Van  Diemen's 
Avenue  the  air  was  opaque  and  silent,  while  the 
thick,  soft  flakes  that  touched  my  face  Hke  chill 
fingers  clung  to  my  coat  and  balled  under  my 
feet.  Winter,  as  we  know  it  not  in  England,  was 
come  at  last. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Miscellany 

It  has  often  struck  me  that  many  people  would 
have  lived  next  to  the  Carvilles  at  that  time  and 
never  discovered  anything  about  them.  When  I 
think  of  it,  our  connection  with  them,  from  first 
to  last,  was  strangely  fortuitous.  How  fortuitous 
none  other  of  our  neighbours  were  even  aware. 
Indeed,  I  remarked  once  to  my  friends  that  here 
we  had  an  illustration  of  the  widely -pervading 
romance  of  everyday  life.  How  Httle  did  our 
respectable  commuting  friends  imagine  the  story 
that  ran  through  our  trivial  connection  with 
Mr.  Carville  and  his  family  !  How  little  does  Mrs. 
Wederslen  think,  for  example,  that  her  surmise 
about  the  burnt  aeroplane  is  grotesquely  wrong  ! 
How  little  does  Williams,  perpetrating  on  canvas 
his  last  fall  vacation  at  Bar  Harbour,  understand 
how  we  came  into  possession  of  that  etching  of 
an  aeroplane  lying  across  an  EngHsh  hedge ! 
Even  Miss  Fraenkel,  I  think,  has  no  clear  ideas 
concerning  Mrs.  Carville's  connection  with  the 
tragedy  of  that  New  Year's  night.  I  remarked, 
early    in    this    narrative,    that    Miss    Fraenkel's 

304 


ALIENS  305 

importance  in  it  was  of  the  slightest.  Her  enthusiasm 
was  ever  an  ignis  fatuus  leading  her  into  unprofit- 
able byways  of  conjecture.  My  friends  and  I, 
therefore,  have  the  superior  position  as  regards 
the  vanished  family  next  door.  We  even  know 
whither  they  are  gone ;  but  we  do  not  tell.  It 
gives  us  a  rare  artistic  pleasure  to  keep  our  counsel. 

I  think  I  may  say  that  after  New  Year's  Day 
we  are  qualified  to  keep  any  secret.  Even  we, 
with  our  inside  knowledge  of  certain  phases  of 
newspaper  work,  had  no  real  conception  of  the 
pertinacity  of  the  Press.  If  the  reporters  did  not 
ask  us  how  much  money  we  had  in  the  bank,  it 
must  have  been  an  oversight,  like  that  trifling 
peculation  of  a  drawing,  or  etching — I  forget 
which — so  fortunately  foiled  by  the  indignant 
Bill.  Nevertheless,  the  unmannerly  young  men 
obtained  nothing  beyond  the  barest  requirements 
of  the  law.     But  I  anticipate. 

Several  times,  during  the  weeks  before  Christmas, 
we  had  packets  of  newspapers  from  Bill's  painter- 
cousin,  and  once  a  letter.  Some  of  the  papers  were 
copies  of  The  Morning,  others,  of  contemporaneous 
issue,  were  old  and  steady  rivals  of  that  journal. 
In  all  of  them  were  heavily -marked  passages 
referring  to  the  epochal  aeroplane.  It  appeared 
that  Lord  Cholme  was  in  some  trouble.  The 
Bugle  even  went  to  the  length  of  suggesting  that 
his  lordship  was  being  "  held  up  "  by  his  brilHant 
coadjutor,  that  Mr.  Francis  Carville's  past  record 
made  it  impossible  for  him  to  act  otherwise  than 

u 


306  ALIENS 

obliquely.     The    Aeronautic    Review    summed    up 
the  situation  to  date  in  a  contemptuous  leaderette. 

"  If  Lord  Cholme,"  they  write,  "  wishes 
airmen  and  the  public  to  take  his  assevera- 
tions seriously,  why  in  the  name  of  honest 
journalism  does  he  not  publish  fresh  dis- 
patches from  his  mysterious  correspondent  ? 
What  are  the  facts  ?  Of  Mr.  Francis  Carville 
we  know  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  Trojan 
Club,  and  that  he  has  made  several  daring 
flights  in  a  new  plane  designed  by  M.  Alphonse 
D'Aubigne.  Lord  Cholme  is  entirely  correct 
in  stating  that  Mr.  Francis  Carville's  past  is 
none  of  the  public's  business.  What  is  the 
public's  business  is  whether  Mr.  Carville  has 
done  anything  authentically  comparable  with 
the  performances  of  Wright,  Bleriot  or  Loraine. 
It  is  all  very  well  for  Lord  Cholme  to  publish 
in  TJie  Morning  conversations  which  he  has 
enjoyed  with  Mr.  Carville  while  the  latter 
was  in  the  air  a  hundred  miles  away.  The 
reputation  of  The  Morning  for  veracity  is  not 
so  spotless  that  the  public  can  afford  to  accept 
its  statements  en  Hoc  and  without  corrobora- 
tion. And  corroboration  is  just  what  Lord 
Cholme  obstinately  refuses  to  provide." 

It  may  be  imagined  that  The  Morning  treated  its 
readers  to  something  quite  different  from  the 
above.     It  was  pointed  out,  in  The  Morning,  that 


ALIENS  307 

jealousy  was  only  natural  among  those  journals 
who  had  missed  coming  to  terms  with  Mr.  Carville. 
Mr.  Carville' s  terms  were  too  high  for  the  gutter 
press,  etc.,  etc.  The  Morning  was  not  to  be  drawn 
into  giving  away  the  secret  of  Mr.  Carville' s 
amazing  intentions  by  any  sarcasm.  One  thing 
was  certain :  the  news  would  only  appear  in  The 
Morning.     Order  your  copy  early. 

So  it  went,  a  rather  common  and  sordid  squabble. 
For  one  single  day  the  New  York  Daily  News  per- 
mitted its  London  correspondent  to  explain  briefly 
what  was  happening,  and  then  turned  the  rest  of 
the  cabled  matter  over  to  the  Sunday  editor.  He, 
having  a  number  of  photographs  taken  from 
balloons  which  he  had  been  unable  to  use  before, 
seized  the  chance  of  "  working  them  in,"  while 
the  science  expert  wrote  a  whole -page  article  in 
the  magazine  section  entitled  "  The  Wireless 
Telephone  :  Is  it  Coming  ?  "  These  were  mailed 
to  the  painter-cousin,  that  he  might  see  for  himself 
an  American  Sunday  newspaper  in  all  its  glory. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  we  paid  much 
attention  to  all  this.  The  season  was  too  busy 
for  our  species  of  work  to  allow  of  much  diversion 
among  newspaper  problems.  It  would  hardly  be 
believed  how  dilatory  many  American  business 
men  are  when  it  is  a  matter  of  placing  a  Christmas 
order.  Several  commissions  came  in  to  us  only 
a  few  days  before,  leaving  very  little  time  to  set 
them  out,  to  say  nothing  of  proofing  and  correc- 
tion.    We  had,   moreover,   our  amiual  batch  of 


308  ALIENS 

letters  and  parcels  to  mail  to  friends  in  England, 
a  task  not  to  be  shirked  on  any  account.  And 
there  were  presents  to  each  other.  .  .  . 

It  is  commonly  assumed  by  those  superior 
people  who  unbend  enough  to  "  study  child  hfe," 
as  they  call  it,  that  the  faculty  for  pretending  is 
pecuHar  to  children.  As  Mr.  Carville  would  say, 
I  think  this  is  a  mistake.  We  grown-ups  have  many 
games  that  we  play.  There  is  the  game  of  meeting 
in  the  street.  What  child  so  besotted  with  pretend- 
ing could  do  it  ?  Mac  and  I,  for  example,  meet 
Mrs.  WilKams  as  we  take  our  constitutional  round 
the  town.  As  we  approach  we  exchange  sotto 
voce  remarks  to  the  effect  that  she  is  coming. 
Mrs.  Williams  continues  to  approach.  We  note 
her  costume,  but  dare  not  make  any  more  re- 
marks, as  American  hearing  is  very  acute.  At 
the  instant  of  passing,  Mrs.  Williams,  who  is 
really  a  very  worthy  young  woman  and  not  bad- 
hearted,  looks  up  suddenly,  smiles  from  ear  to  ear, 
bows  and  is  gone.  We  replace  our  hats,  recover 
from  a  half -mumbled  "  Good  morning,"  and 
continue  upon  our  way  until  out  of  earshot.  Thatf 
is  one  of  the  games  we  play. 

Perhaps  we  three  are  pecuUar,  but  we  love  to 
maintain  the  old  foohsh  habit  of  hanging  up  a^ 
stocking  on  Christmas  Eve.  No  one  is  supposec^^ 
to  know  how  or  when  they  get  on  the  breakfast- 
table.  We  invent  all  sorts  of  excuses  for  sHpping 
away  alone  to  Newark  and  New  York  to  buy 
things   for  each   other.     I,   perhaps,   occupy   the 


ALIENS  309 

absurdest  position  of  all,  for  Bill  consults  me  as 
to  what  Mac  "  would  like/'  and  he  confides  in 
me  his  conviction  that  Bill  has  wanted  a  spool- 
holder  for  a  long  while.  Of  course  I  am  silent 
as  the  grave.  My  room  for  a  week  before  Christ- 
mas is  stored  with  secret  packets.  Sometimes 
this  clandestine  shopping  has  disastrous  results. 
One  snowy  afternoon  in  Chinatown  I  pushed  open 
the  door  of  a  Chinese  store,  intent  on  the  purchase 
of  a  set  of  Shantung  mats  for  Bill,  and  discovered 
her  at  the  counter.  ... 

"  I  thought  you  were  at  home  !  "  wonderingly. 

"  And  I  thought  you  in  Newark  !  '*  protestingly. 

It  adds  to  the  fun  of  the  game. 

In  the  midst  of  our  bustle  and  dissimulation 
a  letter  from  the  painter-cousin  with  a  proof  of 
his  etching  of  the  aeroplanes.  For  a  brief  break- 
fast-hour all  was  forgotten  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  work  of  art.  Bill,  anxiously  torn  between 
her  Hfelong  championship  of  her  husband  as  the 
greatest  artist  since  Whistler  and  her  very  natural 
desire  to  hear  good  of  so  charming  a  relative  as 
Cecil ;  and  I,  burning  with  hterary  curiosity  as  to 
the  outcome  of  so  novel  an  experiment,  leaned 
over  Mac's  chair  as  he  sat  by  the  studio  window 
and  examined  the  proof  in  the  pale  light  of  a 
winter's  day.  Slowly  the  big  magnifying-glass 
moved  over  the  paper,  bringing  into  focus  every 
detail  of  the  picture.  We  accepted  in  silence  the 
fact  that  the  ink  had  dragged  in  one  corner. 

As  was  fit  and  proper,  it  was  a  small  picture,  yet 


310  ALIENS 

tlic  eficct  uf>on  the  mind  was  of  a  vast  open  sky 
and  infinite  rolling  distances  of  land  and  sea.  It 
brought  to  one's  memory  the  grey  flatness  of  Essex, 
the  lonely  reaches  of  mud,  the  solitary  house  and 
the  neighbourly  hedges  of  the  roads.  And  it  did 
this  quite  independently  of  the  bizarre  structure 
that  lay  athwart  the  foreground,  like  some  gigantic 
and  disabled  insect  in  a  moment  of  exhaustion. 
It  lay  there  prone  and  motionless,  a  sprawling 
emblem  of  despair.  And  aloft,  high  up,  as  though 
in  subtle  mockery  of  the  human  endeavour,  a  sea- 
bird  soared  with  wings  atilt,  sweeping  with  efiortless 
grace  towards  the  grey  sea. 

*'  I  don't  hke  remarques,"  growled  Mac,  pointing 
to  a  small  sketch  on  the  margin. 

"  Well,  I  don't  either,"  I  admitted,  ''  but  this 
isn't  on  the  plate,  my  friend.  Moreover,  I  think 
it's  rather  interesting.  It's  Carville,  I  believe. 
Let's  read  the  letter." 

''  High  Wigborough, 
*'  Essex. 

''  December  14th. 
"  Dear  Bill, — I  have  been  sending  you  a  lot 
of  newspapers  lately  just  to  let  you  know  what 
startling  things  are  going  on  in  dear  old  England. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  all  ?  I  suppose  you  have 
so  many  tremendous  affairs  in  America  that  Eng- 
land is  hardly  worth  bothering  about,  eh  ?  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  bale  you  sent  me 
was  all  one  newspaper,  and  comes  out  every  Sunday 


ALIENS  311 

like  that  ?  Why,  it's  more  Hke  an  encyclopsedia 
than  a  newspaper !  It's  incredible.  What  an 
educated  lot  the  Americans  must  be  if  they  read 
it  all. 

"  Of  course  it's  all  rot,  this  row  between  The 
Morning  and  the  other  papers.  What  ^5  true, 
so  far  as  I  can  get  D'Aubigne  to  tell  me  anything 
at  all,  is  that  Carville  has  been  acting  rather  shirty 
with  Lord  Cholme.  Indeed  he  has  been  rather 
shirty  with  my  humble  self  just  lately.  At  any 
time  he's  the  most  restless  chap  I've  ever  met, 
and  the  most  disturbing.  He  comes  up  here  in 
his  big  car — and  it's  really  very  awkward,  so  large 
a  machine  in  a  narrow  road.  Carts  have  to  go 
round  by  Layer  Marney ! — and  sits  the  whole 
afternoon  watching  me  work.  You  know,  the 
hght's  so  bad  these  days,  I  have  to  start  late  in  the 
morning  and  work  till  three.  As  a  rule  he  does  not 
say  a  great  deal,  but  his  presence  is  none  the  less 
unsettling.  He  found  me  pulling  a  first- state 
proof  from  the  aeroplane  plate,  and  I  thought  he 
would  have  been  interested.  Not  a  bit.  I  really 
believe  this  chap,  clever  as  he  is,  is  utterly  lacking 
in  artistic  perception.  D'Aubigne,  to  whom  I 
mentioned  this  curious  lack  in  his  friend,  admitted 
that  Carville,  as  far  as  Art  is  concerned,  is  un 
dne  hdte.  I  suppose  he  thinks  me  as  big  a  fool 
at  his  flying  problems ;  but  then  I  am  interested 
even  if  I  don't  know  much,  while  he  looks  at  a 
picture  as  though  it  was  hkely  to  go  off  bang  and 
blow  him  up.     An  awfully  misanthropic  chap  he 


312  ALIENS 

is,  too.  He  positively  sneered  when  in  the  course 
of  a  conversation  he  found  out  I  was  engaged. 
(By  the  way,  I've  an  invite  for  Christmas  down 
at  High  Wycombe.  I  wish  you  could  be  there  !) 
He  has  the  poorest  opinion  of  women,  says  they 
are  all  false.  *  Well,'  I  said,. '  you  ought  to  know, 
my  dear  chap  ! ' 

"  '  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  '  he  asked,  glowering 
at  me. 

"  '  I  use  my  eyes,  and  D'Aubigne  tells  me  you  are 
fond  of  women.' 

"  '  D'Aubigne  is  a  chattering  fool,'  he  snapped 
back  at  me.  Well,  perhaps  D'Aubigne  is  a 
chatterer,  but  Carville  knows  he  isn't  a  fool  by  a 
long  way.  And  even  a  fool  can  see  that  Carville 
makes  a  hobby  of  it,  as  I  told  you  before. 
D'Aubigne  hiked  over  here  one  afternoon  when 
Carville  was  in  town.  He  told  me  Carville  had 
had  an  awful  row  with  the  woman  called  Gladys, 
a  girl  who  writes  for  one  of  the  weekly  papers. 
She  has  been  living  with  liim,  on  and  off,  for 
years,  and  apparently  he  had  got  into  the  way 
of  thinking  she  didn't  mind  his  other  affairs.  All 
of  a  sudden,  however,  she's  gone  and  got  married 
to  a  rich  Australian  author.  This  rather  upset  the 
apple-cart,  for  Carville  is  one  of  those  men  who 
always  want  the  very  thing  they  can't  get.  He 
tried  to  get  the  Australian  gentleman  to  come 
down  and  write  up  the  Mersea  Island  works  and 
have  a  fly  round,  but  he  very  wisely  preferred  to 
stay   in   Kensington.     So   D'Aubigne   says;     but 


ALIENS  313 

perhaps  his  lively  Gallic  fancy  imputes  more 
wickedness  to  Carville  than  he  really  possesses. 
However,  it  really  seems  that  having  lost  his 
Gladys,  who  is  a  thin  woman  of  thirty  at  least, 
and  grown  sick  of  his  other  gossamer  loves,  Car- 
ville has  suddenly  begun  to  bore  D'Aubigne  with 
another  old  flame  named  Rosa.  Is  it  possible 
that  he  is  thinking  of  your  neighbour's  wife  ? 
D'Aubigne  says  he's  written  to  her.  Good 
heavens ! 

"  These  affairs  of  the  heart  are  really  at  the 
bottom  of  the  row  between  Carville  and  Lord 
Cholme.  The  great  effort,  whatever  it  is,  ought 
to  come  off,  for  D'Aubigne  says  the  new  machine 
is  complete.  People,  as  you  see  in  the  papers, 
are  ragging  Lord  Cholme  frightfully  because  of 
the  delays.  The  Press  so  far  have  been  kept 
away  from  Mersea  Island. 

''  I  couldn't  finish  this  last  night,  and  left  it 
open  until  to-day.  D'Aubigne  has  been  over,  and 
tells  me  Carville  is  a  changed  man.  He  is  going  to 
visit  this  Rosa  by  aeroplane,  and  is  as  fresh  as  a 
boy  at  the  sudden  idea.  In  any  case,  crossing 
the  Atlantic  was  part  of  the  scheme.  The  curious 
thing  is  that  dear  old  D'Aubigne,  who  has  no  idea 
that  I  know  where  '  Rosa '  is,  and  who  doesn't 
know  himself,  Kttle  thinks  he  has  told  me  the 
great  secret.  He  imagines  that  Rosa  lives  in 
France.  He  says  Carville  was  out  one  night  over 
the  sea,  doing  some  low  flying  with  sudden  ascents, 


314  ALIENS 

and  returned  in  high  glee  about  something.  Then 
he  said  he  was  going  to  see  his  Rosa  by  air. 
D'Aubigne  is  rather  sick  about  it,  for  he  is  naturally 
afraid  that  if  Oarville  finds  Rosa  it  may  be  all  up 
with  the  great  scheme.     Isn't  it  topping  ? 

"  Well,  ril  let  you  know  if  anything  further 
happens.  Let  me  know  what  you  think  of  the 
proof.  D'Aubigne  says  '  Bon*  which  is  very  nice 
of  him ! 

"  Yours, 
"  Cecil/' 

''  P,S. — If  it  isn't  lost  en  route  there  is  a  small 
parcel  coming.    Bon  Noel! 

"  C." 

"  P.P.S. — IVe  scratched  the  head  of  Carville 
on  the  margin  of  etching.  What  do  you  think  of 
him  ? 

''  C." 

It  was  a  sinister  face  that  we  looked  upon, 
sketched  on  the  unpressed  margin.  The  head 
was  caught  in  the  attitude  of  leaning  against  a 
wall,  so  that  the  saHence  of  the  jaw,  the  flare  of 
the  nostrils,  and  the  white  of  the  eye  were  accentu- 
ated. The  brow  was  high,  but  (I  imagined) 
pinched  near  the  crown,  and  the  large  cavernous 
nose  gave  to  the  whole  face  an  expression  of  bird- 
hke  rapacity  that  was  corroborated  by  the  full 
curved  hps.  And  in  the  eye  I  fancied  I  saw  a 
crazed  look. 


ALIENS  315 

*'  Good  gracious !  "  said  Bill,  blinking  at  it 
through  her  glasses.     ''  What  a  bad-looking  man  !  '' 

"  He  seems  to  have  that  reputation/'  I  said, 
and  I  left  Mac  to  study  the  weaknesses  of  his 
brother-artist. 

I  do  not  think  any  of  us  thought  very  seriously 
about  the  news  in  this  letter.  Anything  so  mad 
— ^in  those  days — as  crossing  the  Atlantic  in  an 
aeroplane  seemed  out  of  the  question.  Our 
energies  were  so  bent  upon  the  Herculean  task  of 
earning  enough  money  to  cross  the  Atlantic  by 
steamer  that  we  did  not,  I  fear,  give  the  painter- 
cousin's  letter  its  rightful  attention. 

"  Pooh  !  ''  said  Mac.  "  The  man's  cracked  ! 
Fancy  !  In  winter  with  a  gale  Kke  we  had  last 
week  !  " 

We  certainly  had  some  terrible  weather  during 
December.  The  day  I  went  to  Chinatown  the 
traffic  was  disorganized  in  all  directions.  I  went 
to  Chinatown  for  the  express  purpose  of  buying 
some  toys  for  my  httle  friends  next  door.  In  the 
midst  of  our  business  it  had  occurred  to  us  that 
the  house  next  door  would  be  lonely  if  it  so  hap- 
pened that  Mr.  Carville  did  not  get  to  port  before 
Christmas.  The  idea  had  been  taken  up  with 
enthusiasm.  Beppo  was  to  have  a  coasting-sled, 
Ben  a  pair  of  roller  skates.  Bill  set  to  work  to 
make  Indian  suits  for  them,  and  I  was  commis- 
sioned to  fight  my  way  to  Mott  Street  and  get 
coloured  tops,  snakes  and  kites.  Bill's  attitude 
towards  Mrs.  Carville  altered  to  a  milder  and  more 


316  ALIENS 

tolerant  form  when  she  learned  that  the  latter 
would  soon  be  the  mistress  of  a  freehold  home  and 
garden  in  Staten  Island.  Bill  had  never  been 
there,  but  she  saw  my  write-up  about  it,  and 
concluded  that  it  must  be  a  sort  of  second-class 
Garden  of  Eden,  with  good  roads,  steam  heat  and 
an  absence  of  serpents.  I  did  not  deny  that  this 
was  the  case.  I  have  at  least  the  courage  of  my 
convictions.  And  Bill  is  ready  to  beheve  good  of 
any  locaUty  that  is  immune  from  earthquakes. 

It  was  she  who  called  our  attention  to  a  change 
in  Mrs.  Carville's  demeanour.  We  were  taking  tea 
in  the  studio  as  usual,  Bill  sitting  where  she  can 
'*  rubber,'"  as  she  calls  it,  and  make  comments 
upon  our  neighbours  as  they  pass  us  by.  The 
canary,  rejoicing  in  the  name  of  Richard  the  Lion- 
hearted,  chirped  for  his  customary  morsel  of  cake, 
and  I  rose  to  hand  it  to  him.  Across  the  lot,  still 
covered  with  frozen  snow  that  was  blown  about  by 
the  wind,  I  saw  ascending  a  tall  figure  in  a  scarlet 
cloak. 

"  Goodness  ! ''  said  Bill.     "  Who's  that  ?  " 

'*  ]\Irs.  Carville,'*  I  said,  and  we  all  looked. 

"  Hahne's  have  a  big  sale  on,''  murmured  Bill. 
Hahne's  is  the  fourteen-acre  department  store  in 
Newark,  the  store  where  you  can  buy  anything, 
from  a  can  of  soup  to  one  of  Mr.  Arnold  Bennett's 
novels,  and  have  it  sent  home  free. 

There  is,  in  America,  a  mysterious  connection 
between  the  pictures  on  popular  magazine  covers 
and  the  garments  stocked  by  the  big  stores,  a 


ALIENS  317 

connection  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  native  love 
of  pose.  We  all  remembered  a  cover  depicting 
a  girl  with  a  blue  velvet  toque  with  a  red  feather. 
We  remembered,  too,  that  Miss  Fraenkel  appeared 
during  the  week  wearing  a  blue  velvet  toque  with 
a  red  feather.  On  Broadway  I  counted  ten  blue 
toques  with  red  feathers.  So,  too,  with  other 
fashions  ;  and  Mac  and  I  turned  almost  simul- 
taneously to  find  last  week's  number  of  that  same 
journal  (circulation  two  milKons).  The  cover  re- 
presented a  woman  in  a  snowy  landscape,  clad  in 
a  scarlet  cloak. 

"  Well,  I'm  blowed  !  "  said  Mac.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  thought  she'd  have  done  a  thing  like  that. 

"  It  suits  her,"  said  Bill,  craning.  "  She  looks 
well  in  red." 

I  did  not  speak.  I  was  watching  Mrs.  Carville 
cross  the  road  to  her  home.  There  was  an  ex- 
pression of  gaiety  on  her  face  that  I  could  not 
account  for,  a  springiness  in  the  stride,  and  a 
coquettish  lift  of  the  skirt  that  I  had  not  noticed 
before.     I  remarked  upon  it  to  my  friends. 

**  Perhaps  he's  coming  home,"  said  Mac. 

"  Hardly  yet,"  I  said.  "  And  even  then — that 
would  hardly  account  for  such  a  change.  I  wonder 
if  she  is  in  love  ?  " 

"  You  flirty  old  thing !  "  said  Bill,  sitting  down 
again  as  Mrs.  Carville  vanished. 

But  I  was  thinking,  had  been  thinking  sub- 
consciously, I  suppose,  of  the  painter- cousin's 
letter.     I  knew,  without  Mr.  Carville  telHn^  me, 


318  ALIENS 

that  women,  more  even  than  girls,  are  the  victims 
of  temporary  illusions,  that  they  abandon  them- 
selves at  times  to  quite  impossible  and  romantic 
dreams.  In  short,  by  virtue  of  my  experience,  I 
knew  a  good  deal  more  than  I  could  print  or  say. 
But  I  continued  to  think,  and  that  evening  after 
dinner,  to  the  music  of  the  Steersman's  Song  from 
the  Flying  Dutchman,  it  seemed  clear  enough  to 
me  that  even  after  all  these  years,  so  deathless  is 
passion  in  some  hearts,  the  skilful  hand  of  Frank 
Carville  might  set  the  woman's  soul  vibrating 
with  some  of  the  old  ecstasy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Conclusion 

It  was  a  white  Christmas  that  year.  The  earth 
was  still  white  on  Christmas  Eve  when,  late  at 
night,  I  crept  carefully  up  to  the  Carville's  door 
and  deposited  our  gifts  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch. 
And  next  morning,  when  I  woke  early,  the  snow 
was  falHng  steadily,  as  it  had  fallen  for  many  hours. 
At  breakfast  (by  no  means  at  half  after  seven  that 
morning)  the  sky  was  swept  to  a  clean,  clear,  trans- 
parent blue  and  the  sun  shone  with  dazzHng 
brightness  upon  the  road  and  roof.  As  we  shovelled 
industriously,  I  stole  a  glance  at  the  house  next 
door.  The  porch  was  empty,  and  so  far  as  we 
could  see  there  was  no  sign  of  life.  We  were 
rather  glum  at  this,  I  remember,  and  over  hot 
whisky  discussed  the  probability  of  Mrs.  Carville's 
returning  the  presents.  Suddenly  (we  were  in  the 
studio)  we  heard  a  clatter  of  roller-skates  in  the 
porch  and  a  single  knock,  as  though  some  small 
man  had  stood  atip-toe  to  reach  the  Canterbury 
pilgrim.  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  we  went 
down  in  a  body  to  open  the  door.  Giuseppe 
Mazzini    and    Benvenuto    Cellini    stood    without, 

319 


320  ALIENS 

the  former  with  his  sled  over  his  shoulder,  muffled 
to  the  chin,  their  red  cheeks  and  bright  eyes 
beautiful  to  behold. 

"  Hullo  !  "  I  said.  "  Where  did  you  get  those 
from  ?  '* 

Benvenuto  looked  down  critically  at  the  new 
leather  straps  of  the  skates. 

"  Ma  says,"  began  Beppo,  as  though  saj^ing  a 
lesson,  "  Ma  says  we  thank  you  very  much  for  the 

things,  and "    he   glanced   at    Ben,    who   was 

watching  him,  "  and  we  wish  you  a  Merry 
Christmas." 

''  Thank  you,"  we  said,  filling  the  doorway. 
"  Same  to  you.     Where  are  you  off  to  now  ?  " 

"  Pine  Street,"  said  Beppo. 

"  Skates  aren't  much  use  now,  eh  ?  " 

"  He's  tryin'  'em,"  explained  Beppo. 

"  Well  good  luck.     Eat  plenty  of  turkey." 

They  seemed  hesitating  about  something,  looking 
at  each  other  and  then  at  us.  We  looked  down 
benevolently. 

"  You  come  too,"  muttered  Beppo. 

It  was  my  turn  to  hesitate.  And  yet,  why  not  ? 
Mac  laughed. 

"  Come  on,   old  man,"  he  said.      "  We'll  both 

go." 

And  we  did.  For  two  soHd  hours,  oblivious  of 
churchgoers,  we  slid  down  Pine  Street  and  toiled 
up  Pine  Street,  rejoicing  in  the  keen  air,  the  flying 
of  the  snow,  and  the  delighted  shouts  of  the 
youngsters. 


ALIENS  321 

"  Now,"  said  Mac,  "  come  in  and  have  some 
candy  ?  " 

As  we  knocked  the  snow  off  our  boots  in  the  porch 
Bill  came  to  the  door,  looking  somewhat  excited. 

"  She's  here !  "  she  whispered,  and  suddenly 
struck  dumb,  we  entered,  took  off  our  boots  and 
went  upstairs  to  the  studio. 

Quite  naturally,  Mrs.  Carville  had  stepped  in  to 
thank  her  neighbour  for  the  Httle  leather  purse 
which  Bill  had  sent  her.  She  embarrassed  us  yet 
more  by  standing  up  when  we  came  in.  Mac, 
who  is  punctilious,  begged  her  to  be  seated  again. 
She  was  wearing  her  scarlet  cloak  and  her  face  was 
aglow  with  diverse  emotions. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  she  said  as  I  was  getting  the 
candy,  "  I  did  not  know  people  were  so  kind." 

"  In  Christmas  time,"  said  Mac  good-hurnouredly, 
"  we  like  to  be  jolly,  you  know.  When's  Mr. 
Carville  coming  back  ?  " 

A  swift  shadow  crossed  her  face,  gone  in  an 
instant. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"'  she  repHed.  "  Perhaps  next 
week.    I  do  not  know.'' 

"  I  was  sajdng,"  said  Bill  hurriedly,  "  it  was  a 
pity  he  couldn't  get  in  for  Christmas." 

''  Never,"  remarked  Mrs.  Carville,  watching  the 
children  eating  chocolate,  "  Never  can  he  get 
home  for  Christmas.  Every  year  it  is  the  same. 
He  is  always  at  sea." 

She  looked  down  at  us  vaguely,  as  though  she 
feared,  somehow,  that   we   did   not   beHeve   her. 


322  ALIENS 

Suddenly,  with  a  blinding  clearness  I  saw  the 
secret  of  this  woman's  soul.  Why  had  I  not 
divined  it  before  ?  Surely  the  evidence  was  plain 
for  me  to  see.  Perhaps  it  was  because  I  am  a 
bachelor,  and  as  Mr.  Carville  had  said,  there  are 
many  things  I  cannot  easily  understand.  .  .  . 

But  I  saw  it  then,  as  she  looked  round  at  us.  I 
saw  the  immediate  and  precipitous  chasm  between 
such  a  Hfe  as  hers  and  a  Hfe  hke  my  friend's,  ever 
close  to  her  husband,  understanding  his  whims, 
his  fears,  his  hopes,  his  weakness,  and  his  victories. 
I  saw  the  desolation  of  the  sea-wife,  the  long  lonely 
nights,  the  ever-present  apprehension  of  loss, 
I  understood  the  pathos  of  the  scaldino.  And 
swift  upon  that  vision  I  saw  the  appalhng  danger 
of  such  a  Hfe  to  a  woman  of  imperfect  culture, 
strong  passion  and  yet  noble  aspiration.  I  saw, 
too,  another  and  more  particular  tragedy  of  hers, 
the  tragedy  of  feeling  for  ever  debarred  from  her 
husband's  inmost  soul.  That  vague  look  of  distress 
seemed  to  me  luminous  with  meaning.  She  wished 
to  say — ^how  much  ! — ^yet  in  EngHsh  she  had  no 
words. 

Married  people,  I  observe,  often  copy  each 
other's  trivial  mannerisms  of  speech  and  gesture. 
It  struck  me  that  the  quick  look  with  which  Mrs. 
Carville  regarded  me  as  she  departed,  had  in  it 
something  akin  to  her  husband's.  I  fancied  she 
had  divined  my  thoughts,  and  was  afraid. 

We  talked  it  over  for  a  long  time  that  night,  I 
taking    up    the    case    for    the    prosecution    and 


ALIENS  323 

submitting  to  the  charge  of  uncharitableness  with 
my  usual  equanimity. 

"  On  Christmas  Day,  too  ! '"  said  Bill  reproach- 
fully. 

I  could  not  get  them  to  see  the  practical  possibility 
of  such  a  thing.  They  thought  I  laboured  the 
details  of  the  painter-cousin's  letter  too  much. 
Mac  was  stubbornly  certain  that  a  man  would 
never  cross  the  Atlantic  in  an  aeroplane  in  our  time. 
I  waived  that.  I  cared  nothing  for  aeroplanes. 
Let  science  do  her  worst.  What  I  wanted  them 
to  see  was  the  HkeHhood  of  that  dark  powerfully- 
willed  man  taking  up  the  threads  of  a  past  romance 
and  working  havoc  even  so  far  away  from  England 
as  New  Jersey.  And  they  would  not  see  it.  They 
declared  I  was  a  bad  man,  and  hoped  I  would 
keep  my  evil  thoughts  locked  in  my  breast.  It 
was  Christmas  Day  ! 

It  is  here  that  Miss  Fraenkel  interposed,  all 
unconsciously,  and  became  the  cause  of  our 
presence  at  the  final  catastrophe,  the  collapse  of 
the  aeroplane  in  the  snow.  For  had  we  not  gone 
out  that  night  to  visit  Miss  Fraenkel,  and  with  her 
see  the  New  Year  in,  we  should  have  had  no  vivid 
memory  of  that  terrible  descent,  nor  understood 
how  strangely  fate  weaves  our  destinies,  how 
inexphcably  she  will  drive  to  ruin  at  the  moment 
of  victory. 

We  had  been  chatting  quietly,  I  remember,  as  we 
cUmbed  Pine  Street,  the  deep  snow  making  the 
passage  difficult,  when  we  heard  the  strange  sound 


324  ALIENS 

of  the  rejoicing  in  New  York,  so  far  away.  And 
it  was  without  any  tlioiight  of  coming  peril,  without 
any  thought  of  our  neighbour  out  upon  the  sea, 
that  we  paused  at  the  hill-top  and  looked  out 
across  the  famihar  scene.  We  were  talking,  I 
think,  of  a  previous  New  Year,  when  we  had  salhed 
out  from  our  flat  in  Lexington  Avenue  and  joined 
the  tumultuous  citizens  in  their  merry-making. 
We  had  not  dreamed,  we  said,  that  wayfarers 
on  the  Jersey  Hills  could  have  heard  us.  And  as 
we  said  it,  Bill  clutched  my  arm,  I  looked  up,  and 
saw  the  three  green  lights. 

It  has  been  narrated,  in  the  beginning,  how  we 
watched,  and  how  the  thing,  spinning  horribly  in 
the  air,  came  down  and  burst  into  flames  in  the 
deep  snow.  It  has  been  narrated  how  the  pubhc 
were  misled,  and,  by  a  strange  caprice  of  destiny, 
were  given  no  history  of  the  episode.  With  the 
pubhc  I  have  no  immediate  concern.  Let  it  suffice 
that  I  record  here  my  knowledge  and  conviction 
that  the  ill-fated  Carville  did  indeed  cross  the 
ocean  on  his  machine,  taking  a  southerly  course 
to  the  Canary  Islands,  and  landing  for  a  short 
time  in  the  marshes  of  Glynne. 

Lord  Cholme  declared  again  and  again  that  the 
telephone  messages  broke  off  near  Gibraltar,  and 
for  all  I  know  Lord  Cholme  may  be  right.  In  all 
probabihty  the  apparatus  went  wrong  and  Carville 
continued  his  flight.  The  painter-cousin  has  told 
us  that  for  days  Carville  studied  maps  and  charts  of 
the  Atlantic  Coast  Line  before  he  started,  and  it  is 


ALIENS  325 

evident  to  me  that  the  plan  had  germinated  in  his 
mind  to  descend  upon  his  brother  from  the  air.  It 
was  a  fitting  and  glorious  end  to  a  stormy  career, 
an  end  such  as  he  probably  would  have  desired, 
and  which  would  appeal  to  his  riotous  and  un- 
disciphned  heart. 

The  following  day  is  memorable  to  us,  as  I  have 
said,  because  of  the  revelation  it  afforded  us  of 
the  methods  of  a  free  and  enlightened  Press.  The 
next  day  after  was  a  revelation,  too.  The  hue  and 
cry  was  gone,  our  little  happenings  were  forgotten, 
and  some  other  home  was  besieged  by  the  reporters. 
I  started  out  fearfully  to  go  to  the  post-office 
after  breakfast,  and  encountered  Beppo  and  Benny 
with  the  sled 

"Hullo,"  I  said.  "Isn't  father  back  yet, 
Beppo  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

''  No,"  he  said.     "  Ma's  in  there  though." 

"  Is  she  ?  "  I  answered.     "  Is  she  all  right  ?  " 

"  She's  cryin',  Ma  is  !  "  he  remarked  in  a  general 
way.     "  You  can  go  in  if  you  like." 

I  looked  down  at  them,  troubled.  I  thought  of 
Bill.  I  hastened  back  to  the  house  and  called 
her. 

"  You  go,"  I  said.  "  It  would  be  better,  you 
know."     She  went  to  get  her  cloak  at  once. 

"  Now,  let's  go  down  to  Pine  Street,"  I  said  to 
the  boys,  and  away  we  went,  overturning  at  the 
bottom  amid  shouts  of  joy. 

Miss  Fraenkel  was  full  of  the  news,  and  after  I 


326  ALIENS 

had  bought  my  stamps  she  continued  to  discuss 
it. 

"  It  would  make  quite  a  story,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 
she  said.  "  A  thing  like  that  coming  down,  and 
nobody  knowing  where  it  came  from.  Like  Sher- 
lock Holmes  !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "I'll  try  my  hand  at  it  some  day." 

"  Of  course,"  she  smiled.  "  you'll  have  to  invent 
a  love-interest.  You  told  me  that  was  absolutely 
necessary." 

"  I'll  try  that,  too,"  I  said,  smiHng  in  my  turn, 
and  Hfting  my  hat,  I  hurried  home. 

My  friend  was  busy  at  his  easel,  blocking  out  a 
poster  for  a  breakfast  food. 

"  Where's  Bill  ? "  he  asked,  reaching  for  his 
matches. 

"  Hasn't  she  come  back  ?  " 

And  I  told  him  where  she  was. 

Presently  she  returned,  rather  pale  and  seemingly 
reluctant  to  talk.  It  came  out  slowly,  as  she 
arranged  it  in  her  mind, 

"  He  wrote  to  her,"  she  said.  "  That's  why  she 
was  so  excited  lately.  But  she  can't  explain — in 
Enghsh,  you  know.  She  kept  saying,  '  My  heart ! 
oh,  my  heart !  '  .  .  .  and  yet  she's  glad,  in  a  way. 
It  would  have  been  splendid  and  yet  awful — if  he 
had — don't    you    think  ?     Just    fancy  !     He    was 

one  of  those  men 1  did  what  I  could  to  quiet 

her.  .  .  .  He  will  be  home  in  a  day  or  two.  .  .  . 
Poor  thing !  " 


ALIENS  327 

It  is  on  the  point  of  dusk  as  we  stand  at  the 
studio-window  and  watch  him  coming  up  the  hill, 
seeking  vaguely  for  the  footpath  in  the  snow.  He 
is  wrapped  up  warmly,  and  his  Derby  hat  is  set 
firmly  as  ever  upon  his  down-bent  head.  The 
corn-cob  pipe  smokes  as  ever,  and  he  pauses  to 
shake  out  the  ash  ere  he  steps  down  upon  the  road. 
For  a  moment  he  looks  up  at  our  windows,  and 
seeing  us,  makes  a  grave  gesture  of  salutation. 
He  catches  sight  of  Bill  looking  through  her 
glasses,  over  my  shoulder,  and  lifts  his  hat.  His 
glance  sweeps  over  to  his  own  house,  his  own 
inviolate  home,  and  drops  once  again  to  the  ground. 
And  then,  with  a  reflective  air,  he  steps  across  to  the 
sidewalk  and  walks  sedately  up  to  his  door. 


The  End 


Wyman  &  Sons  Ltd.,  Printers,  London  and  Reading, 


"ns  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  I  A,. 


JUN    7    1933 


fE£*  15  1935    l^'}-^'*- 

'j\UTO.  DISC. 


OCT   9     1938 

APR  1  6 '64 -a. , 


SEP    2  1986 


y 


^ 


<^^  YB  69687 

GENERAL  LIBRABY-U.C.  BERKELEY 


BD00fit.23b3 


.^4,-, 


5^5^3^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


\.^.^    V..-^'' 


